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Evition ve Lure 


REDGAUNTLET 


eo PAG) OF STHE) EIGHBREENTH! CENTURY 


IN TWO VOLUMES 


VOLT. 


BY SIR, WALTER. SCOTT, BART 


GHith Untrovuctory Hssay and Notes 


By ANDREW LANG 





WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON 
ESTES AND LAURIAT 


1894 


EDITION DE LUXE. 
Limited to One Thousand Coptes. 


Noo baa 


Copyright, 1894, 
By ESTES AND LAURIAT. 


IV POGRAPAYELACLT ROLY PING, (ANG 
PRINTING BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 
UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 


Edition de Lure. 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


VOLUME I. 


PAGE 


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REDGAUNTLET. 


A TALE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 


Master, go on; and I will follow thee, 
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 


As You Like it. 


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EDITORS INTRODUCTION 
TO 


REDGAUNTLET. 


‘¢ REDGAUNTLET”’ is, for at least two reasons, one of 
the most interesting of Scott’s novels, as far as his 
novels are revelations of his own history and opinions. 
Tt is full of matter which may almost be called autobio- 
graphical : reminiscences of his youth, of his father, of 
his one love-story ; and again, it illustrates, by its 
portrait of Prince Charles in his later unhappy years, 
the sentiment of Jacobitism in Scott. To the friend 
of forlorn causes the figure of Charles, when all but 
immortal hope was lost, may have seemed more full of 
charm than in the days of brief triumph at Holyrood 
and at Gladsmuir. In the scene of the Council, in 
‘‘Redgauntlet,”? Scott had originally written of Charles 
as ‘‘the King.’? On the margin of the proof-sheet 
James Ballantyne remarks, ‘‘Is if the King? I sus- 
pect you will order me to tame it down to ‘Prince.’ ” 
In the novel as it stands the phrase is ‘their king,’ 
but the original words express the natural sentiment of 
the author —a sentiment, as often chanced, at war 
with his judgment. Had Scott lived in his father’s, 
or rather in his grandfather’s, days, we cannot say 
whether he would have mounted the white or the black 
cockade, whether reason or sentiment would have pre- 
vailed. But he would assuredly have fought on one 


x EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 


side or the other, and, the long quarrel once closed, 
his feelings were entirely with the brave, the beautiful, 
the kind, the clement Prince Charles of 1745. In this 
novel he dares to follow him among the mysterious but 
always audacious adventures of the years after the 
Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and draws, with a hand pious 
and atfectionate, the portrait of the last and, in his 
youth, the most fascinating of a fated line. When old 
and broken and near his death, Scott made his latest 
romantic pilgrimage to the mausoleum of the Stuarts 
in St. Peter’s, and the Palace of Cardinal York in the 
Piazza de SS. Apostoli. He mentioned how, as he 
was walking once on the battle-field of Prestonpans, 
he had heard the minute-guns proclaiming the death of 
George IV. (Journal, June 27, 1830, where the visit to 
Prestonpans is noted, but nothing is said of the guns.) 
It is well known that near the Lake of Avernus, when 
his companion was expatiating on the Temple of Apollo, 
Baie, and so forth, he repeated, ‘‘in a grave tone, and 
with great emphasis — 


Up the craggy mountain, 
And down the mossy glen, 

We canna gang a-milking 
For Charlie and his men.” 1 


In fact, Italy, at that sad moment of his life, interested 
him more as the retreat of his country’s kings than as 
the scene of ancient history. In ‘‘ Redgauntlet ’’ he 
writes almost the final page of the forlorn tale, and he 
blends his devotion to old years with a memory of his 
first love. In some letters written to him by an 
unnamed friend of his youth, Lockhart found the fol- 
lowing passage: ‘Your Quixotism, dear Walter, 
was highly characteristic. From the description of the 


1 Lockhart, x. 168. 


REDGAUNTLET. xi 


blooming fair, as she appeared when she lowered her 
manteau vert, I am hopeful you have not dropped 
the acquaintance.”’ ‘‘ This hint,’ says Lockhart, ‘I 
cannot help connecting with the first scene of the 
Lady Green Mantle in ‘ Redgauntlet,’ but indeed I 
could trace many more coincidences between these 
letters and that novel, though at the same time I. have 
no sort of doubt that William Clerk was, in the main, 
Darsie Latimer, while Scott himself unquestionably 
sat for his own portrait, in Alan Fairford.’ All that 
is told us of old Mr. Fairford’s political caution or 
urbanity ‘‘ was true of Mr. Walter Scott, his father,” 
and the visit of Herries to old Fairford reminds one of 
the tale of Murray of Broughton and the teacup (Lock- 
hart, i. 243). Mr. Clerk informed Lockhart that 
‘‘nothing could be more exact (excepting as to a few 
petty circumstances, introduced for obvious reasons) 
than the resemblance of the Mr. Saunders Fairford of 
‘Redgauntlet’ to his friend’s father. . . . The real 
Darsie” (William Clerk) ‘‘ was present at the real Alan 
Fairford’s ‘bit chack of dinner,’ and the old Clerk of 
the Signet was very joyous on the occasion.” ‘‘ Scott’s 
thesis was not de periculo et commodo rei vendite,”’ 
but on ‘‘ The Disposal of the dead bodies of Criminals.” 
It was dedicated, not inappropriately, to the notorious 
Lord Braxfield. Thus ‘‘ Redgauntlet ’’ is, in part, a 
memory of first love, first friendship, and of filial affec- 
tion. In the industrious Alan, so scant of pocket 
money, so piously obedient and energetic, to please his 
sire, in uncongenial labour, we have Sir Walter in his 
youth, and in his neat precise economical parent, so con- 
temptuous of literary or military or any but legal 
success, we have the father who feared that the son 
would prove ‘‘ but a gangrel scrapegut,’’ old Mr. Scott, 
a man affectionate and reserved, as was the Scottish 
manner of old. 


xii EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 


‘¢ Redgauntlet’’ was originally called ‘‘ Herries,” 
Lockhart says, until Constable persuaded the author to 
choose the more striking name. It was published in 
June 1824, and was ‘‘ received somewhat coldly.” To 
contemporaries, no doubt, it could not present the 
interest of autobiography as it does to us. It was 
Scott’s only novel of the year : he was occupied with 
the second edition of his ‘‘ Life of Swift,’’ with reviews, 
with a “ Tribute to the Memory of Lord Byron,” and 
with the furnishing and decoration of Abbotsford. 

The proof-sheets of ‘‘ Redgauntlet’” exist, and 
show some noteworthy points, as we see James Ballan- 
tyne’s suggestions, Scott’s corrections, and an occa- 
sional aside to Ballantyne.’ It is curious that the 
opening misquotation from Horace, Cur me exani- 
mas querelis tuis (for cur me querelis exanimas twis) 
has been left uncorrected. James clearly was ignorant 
of Latin, and, when he draws attention later to a Latin 
passage, Scott not unnaturally asks why, in such a 
printing establishment, there is nobody who can read 
a few lines of the language of Rome. James objects 
to the mixture of ‘‘Thou’’ and “You” in Fairford’s 
letter (ii.), but Scott does not make any change. The 
whole allusion to the Fairfords’ possible descent, on 
the wrong side, from ‘‘ Fairford of that ilk,”’ is an after- 
thought, added on the margin of the proof. Herries 
was originally ‘‘ of Dryfesdale,” not of ‘‘ Birrenswork.”’ 
A marginal addition is old Mr. Fairford’s rebuke to . 
Darsie for growing merrier instead of graver with the 
increase of his income. This characteristic ‘‘ brocard” 
may have been a reminiscence. By far the greater 
number of additions are made on the margin of that 
perfect masterpiece, ‘‘ Wandering Willie’s Tale.” 

1 The proof-sheets have been lent to the Editor by the kindness 


of Mr. D. MacRitchie. Unluckily, the margins have been muti- 
lated by the binder. 


REDGAUNTLET. xiii 


‘‘The finest finger for the back lilt’ is an addition, 
so is the rumour that Redgauntlet feared the vengeance 
of the Whigs. So is ‘‘you maun ken he had a way 
of bending his brows that men saw the visible mark of a 
horse-shoe on his forehead, deep dinted as if it had been 
stamped there.” But probably the horse-shoe was 
already part of the conception of the story. It is bor- 
rowed from the sister of Major Weir, the warlock, who 
is said, in the curious old account of herself and her 
brother, usually accompanying ‘‘ Ravaillac Redivivus,”’ 
to have possessed a frown like Redgauntlet’s. ‘If I 
were ever to become a writer of romances,’’ Scott had 
said long ago, while he lived at Lasswade, ‘‘ I think I 
would choose Major Weir, if not for my hero, at least 
for an agent, and a leading one, in my production.”’ 
This was in 1798, sixteen years before ‘‘ Waverley.” 
He never introduced Major Weir, the gaoler of Mont- 
rose, as a character, but he borrowed the frown of the 
Major’s sister and fellow-sufferer.' The insertion of 
Bloody Mackenyie in Hell is a marginal addition, so 
is Steenie’s waking in the parish kirkyard — a romantic 
thought, and there are other notes of less interest. 
Most of the costume of the gay fishwife at the dance is 
an afterthought. James Ballantyne rather timidly sug- 
gests that Green Mantle at the fishers’ dance reminds 
him of Di Vernon, so Scott slightly modifies her cava- 
lier tone. James is scandalised at the mention of 
young advocates as ‘‘boys.” Scott writes, ‘* Aye, 
aye !’? Where the old judge speaks of ‘‘the auld 
b ,” Ballantyne entreats that ‘‘b—h ” may be sub- 
stituted. ‘I think delicacy itself requires b—h.’’ 
James was very strong on delicacy. The relentless 
Scott, therefore, to the primitive ‘“B’’ adds ‘‘itch.” 
Ballantyne makes a more useful suggestion, which 





1 Gillies (“ Recollections,” p. 108) tells the anecdote of Major 
Weir, 


xiv EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 


Scott accepts, when Alan reads the wrong letter in 
the trial. When one of the characters promises to 
another ‘‘a day’s work in harvest,” the sensitive James 
asks, ‘‘Is not this a trifle— vulgar ?’’? But he allows 
‘“‘cave ne Bellephontes literas adferres”’ to stand 
uncorrected. When Scott writes, ‘‘He might have 
made a pendant to my friend Wilkie’s inimitable blind 
Crowder,” Ballantyne asks, ‘‘ What does a ‘ pendant ’ 
mean ?’? To have a corrector whose ignorance fairly 
represents that of many readers was doubtless useful 
to Scott. Ballantyne fulfilled the duties of Molieére’s 
legendary old housekeeper. 

In the historical theme of ‘‘ Redgauntlet ’’ Scott 
could and did move with considerable freedom. The 
fortunes of Prince Charles between his return to France 
after the Forty-five and his marriage are obscure now, 
and were involved in mystery even as far as contempo- 
raries were concerned. A sketch of what is known or 
conjectured about them may therefore be attempted. 
Some materials exist in the Stuart Papers, the adven- 
tures of which are a romance in themselves. On the 
death of Cardinal York (1806), the enormous collection 
of documents of the exile remained in his palace, unre- 
garded. They were discovered and purchased for a 
small sum by Robert Watson, an adventurer whose 
record is a novel in itself. Born in Elgin about 1746- 
1750, Watson had been engaged on the colonial side in 
the American War of Independence. He had been 
Secretary to Lord George Gordon, of riotous celebrity, 
and a correspondent of the French Revolutionaries. 
Driven from England, he entered the service of Napo- 
leon, probably as a spy. Under Napoleon he was head 
of the Scots College in Paris, and later went to Italy 
to try to grow indigo there, during the Continental 
blockade. In this enterprise he failed, but he obtained 
the Stuart Papers, and hoped to get a large price for 


REDGAUNTLET. XV 


them. The English Government induced the Papal 
Court to seize the papers, Watson was paid, though 
not so much as he expected, and, after various vicissi- 
tudes, the documents reached England. In 1880, 
Scott was appointed to a commission for editing the 
Manuscripts, but he did not live to fulfil this congenial 
duty. Only a single volume, dealing with Atterbury’s 
intrigues, was published by Government, but Lord 
Stanhope made some use of the materials, and many 
letters were published by James Browne, in his 
‘History of the Highland Clans” (Glasgow, 1838). 
Then the papers were removed to Windsor, and since 
that event they have not been edited. As far as they 
are concerned, the last years of the Stuarts remain a 
blank. These Stuart Papers, then, were not known 
to Scott when he wrote ‘‘ Redgauntlet.’? They make 
it apparent that, even before the Forty-five, there was 
a king’s party and a prince’s party in the Jacobite 
councils. Charles was in the hands of Sheridan, 
Sullivan, Kelly, and other Irishmen, who are probably 
responsible for his unexpected descent on Scotland. 
They it was, apparently, who prejudiced him against 
his gallant and competent general, Lord George 
Murray, whom he refused to see in France, after the 
affair of Forty-five. The Stuart Papers prove that as 
early as 1747 Charles was acting on his own plans, was 
concealing them from James, and was on bad terms 
with the Duke of York, even before the Duke mortally 
offended him by accepting a Cardinal’s hat.2 The 

1 In the “Tales of the Century,” by John Sobieski and Charles 
Edward Stuart (London, 1847), “Stuart Papers in our possession ” 
are often quoted. The history of the Counts Stuart d’Albanie, 
who represented themselves as descendants of a child born to 
Charles Edward in wedlock, is in itself a singular problem which 
has often been discussed with very inadequate knowledge. 


2 James to Charles, Jan. 28, 1748: “ You had already quite 
broke with him before he was a Cardinal.” 


xvi EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 


Marquis d’Argenson, in his Memoirs, says that accord- 
ing to report Charles was angry with Henry (the Duke 
of York) for displaying cowardice in declining to 
embark for England during the Rising. However 
this may be, the Scotch and English Jacobites thought 
the Cardinalship of the Duke a worse blow than Cul- 
loden to their cause. The hopes of succession were 
diminished, and the attachment of the Royal Family 
to Catholicism was accentuated. Charles therefore 
remained on the worst terms with his brother and 
father, not improved by his refusal to leave France 
on the conclusion of the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and 
by his captivity at Vincennes, and exile to Avignon 
(1748-49). On the other hand, Charles’s conduct won 
him great popularity with the French, and threw much 
shame on the king and his government. From this 
moment Charles’s dream was a Restoration effected 
without French aid, and James often reasons with him 
on the subject. From Avignon (Feb. 24, 1749) Charles 
wrote to the Landgrave of Hesse Darmstadt, asking 
for the hand of his daughter. In May 1749 Charles was 
secretly in Venice. He fled from Avignon, whither 
is not known, though a letter attributed to Henry 
Goring, his equerry, published in 1750, tells a strange 
and romantic tale of his adventures in Strasburg, 
Poland, where he was to marry the Princess Radzivil, 
and elsewhere. He is said to have met Frederick the 
Great at Berlin, and in the collection of the Count 
Stuart d’Albanie was a remarkable powder-horn, given 
to Charles by Frederick on this occasion. It is pro- 
bable that Charles now lived in seclusion at the castle 
of his friend the Duc de Bouillon, but his incognito 
was so successful that neither the spies of the English 
Government nor his own family could penetrate the 
mystery. He certainly resided much in Switzerland, 
under an assumed name. 


REDGAUNTLET. xvii 


Two points, on which ‘‘ Redgauntlet ”’ turns, are cer- 
tain. Charles did visit England, and he did contract 
a liaison with Miss Walkinshaw, a fatal event in his 
career. In 1750 James writes to Lord George Murray, 
‘¢T do not so much as know where he is.” In a mem- 
orandum of May 3, 1750, Charles writes, ‘‘ye P. is 
determined to go over at any rate.’? ‘*The grand 
affair of L. [London ?] to be attempted.’? In Septem- 
ber 1750 Charles was in London, where Dr. King met 
him at a party in Lady Primrose’s house. He remained 
in London from Sept. 5 to Sept. 13, when he returned 
to Paris. At this time Charles declared himself a 
Protestant, as is proved by a memorandum in his own 
hand. It is also asserted in the scraps of writing left 
by Dr. Archibald Cameron, executed in 1752. In 
1752-58 it is probable, from the statements of Hume 
and Lord Elcho’s MS., that Charles was again in Lon- 
don. There was a plot of Lord Elibank’s to seize 
George II., carry him off, and proclaim King James. 
(Letter of David Hume, ‘‘Gentleman’s Magazine,”’ 
1788. This letter, however, contains some absurd 
tattle from Helvetius, about the cowardice of the 
Prince. It also speaks of Charles’s presence at the 
Coronation of George III. in 1761.) In May 1754 
Charles was in England, according to Lord Albemarle, 
the English ambassador at Paris, and, for some reason, 
he visited Nottingham. (Ewald, ii. 213.) Tradition 
speaks of other movements. His ghost is said to haunt 
an old house in Godalming! In a letter written to the 
Count Stuart d’Albanie, the Editor finds mention of a 
visit of the Prince to the North of Ireland, given on the 
authority of an old Mr. Maxwell. Charles is said to 
have held his last council in England at Mereworth 


1 This is mentioned on a scrap of memorandum, quoted by the 
Queen’s Librarian, “Times,” Dec. 27, 1864. See Mr. Hwald’s 
“ History of Prince Charles,” ii. 201. 

b 


xviii EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 


Castle in Kent, where the English Jacobites are also 
said to have drawn up a remonstrance about Miss 
Walkinshaw. Miss Warrender informs the Editor 
that Lady Falmouth, to whom, as Baroness Le De- 
spenser in her own right, the castle belonged, pointed 
out Prince Charles’s room, which he occupied at some 
time between 1750 and 1762, the year of the death of 
John Earl of Westmoreland, an adherent of the Stuarts. 
The father and mother of Lady Falmouth well remem- 
bered an old maid-servant in Mereworth Castle who had 
seen and known the Prince there, and recollected him 
perfectly. In Mereworth Castle, then, we may see the 
original of Fairladies. It was in 1755, when war be- 
tween France and England seemed inevitable, and when 
Charles had been visiting King Stanislaus at Nancy, 
that the Jacobites remonstrated thrice about the Prince’s 
liaison with Miss Walkinshaw. Dr. King, in his 
‘¢ Anecdotes ’’ (p. 207), tells how Macnamara ex- 
claimed, in despair, ‘‘ What has your family done, 
sir, thus to draw down the vengeance of Heaven on 
every branch of it through so many ages ?”” A Memoir 
of Remonstrance was also drawn up by the Scottish 
Jacobites.1 They disclaimed any belief in the slanders 
of ‘‘ Jemmy Dawkins,’’ and others, such as Lord Elcho. 
It was said that Charles had threatened to publish the 
names of the gentlemen represented by Macnamara. 
Writing to the Earl Marischal (May 18, 1754), Charles 
says, ‘‘ Whoever told you that I gave such a message to 
Ed. as you mention has told you a damned lie.” ‘I 
would not do the least hurt to my greatest enemy (were 
he in my power), much less to any one that professes 
to be mine.’’ (Browne, iv. 121.) To the Scottish 
Remonstrance Charles answered, in writing, ‘‘ Reason 
may, and I hope always shall, prevail, but my own 


1 Browne, iv. 225. 


REDGAUNTLET. xix 


heart deceives me if threats or promises ever can.’’ 
(Browne, iv. 127.) In brief, he could not put away 
Miss Walkinshaw, because his friends feared that 
their fortunes were at the mercy of her sister, a woman 
about the English court. If we may believe Dawkins, 
Lord Elcho, and Goring as reported by Lord Elcho, 
Charles’s character was now hopelessly shattered. In 
his Highland miseries he had learned to drink; a thou- 
sand disappointments and treacheries had soured him, 
temper and natural goodness of heart were overthrown, 
and he would not, in any case, give up a companion 
whose loyalty he had no reason to doubt. Al] these 
events are earlier than the assumed date of ‘‘ Red- 
gauntlet,’’? which is about 1767. 

The true history of Miss Walkinshaw is extremely 
obscure. It has been examined at length by Charles 
and John Sobieski Stuart, in Notes to ‘‘ Tales of the 
Century.” Their motive for studying the matter is 
obvious. There was another soi-disant Stuart in the 
field. They quote ‘‘the Arndilly Papers,” as vouch- 
ing for Charles’s marriage with Miss Walkinshaw, and 
the Editor has reason to believe that this lady did 
assure her kindred that she had been married to the 
Prince. Her letters were borrowed from a surviving 
descendant, and were never returned. But as Charles, 
in his latest days, formally legitimated his daughter 
by Miss Walkinshaw, the Duchess of Albany, and as, 
during his liaison, he was frequently in treaty for a 
marriage, it is impossible to believe the story. It was 
asserted that the Duchess of Albany, before Charles 
took her up, had married a Swedish Baron Rochenstart, 
and had by him a son, who was thus the legitimate 
representative of the Stuarts! This absurd myth is 
disposed of with great acuteness in the Notes to “Tales 
of the Century.” There was, however, a gentleman 
named Stuart who claimed, or was supposed to be, this 


to EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 


last Stuart, and who died, it is believed in Scotland, 
about 1850. 

The real history of Miss Walkinshaw, apart from 
fable, is hard to disentangle. Information which is not 
correct is derived from the “CXuvres de Saint-Simon,” 
xii. 144. She is there described as daughter of John 
Walkinshaw, Baron of ‘‘ Barronsfield,” really Barow- 
field. The lovers are said to have met at Bannockburn, 
during the siege of Stirling, but this, again, is more 
than dubious.! After Culloden, Miss Walkinshaw re- 
mained in Scotland, and it is not certain when she 
joined the Prince abroad. Mr. Ewald (ii. 190) thinks 
it was before his retreat to Avignon. /Pichot, in 
‘¢ Histoire de Charles Edouard,’’? makes them meet 
at Ghent, in 1750, or rather when Charles arrived at 
Ghent he sent her on to Paris. Now, as her sister, 
Catherine, was woman of the bedchamber to the mother 
of George III. of England, the Jacobites believed that 
Miss Walkinshaw was simply sent abroad as a Hano- 
verian spy. Hence the final quarrel between Charles 
and his adherents. It is certain that Miss Walkin- 
shaw, under the name of Caroline Pitt, lived with - 
Charles, and bore him two children, of whom the elder, 
a boy, died early. In 1760, Miss Walkinshaw quitted 
the Prince, who was at Bouillon, and withdrew, with 
her daughter, to Paris. Charles never saw her again. 
The events in ‘‘ Redgauntlet’’ are, therefore, post- 
dated. The lady is said to have borne the title of 
Countess of Albertroff, and to have died at Fribourg, in 
1805. Though described as a fair beauty, with “hair of 
paly gold,” in ‘‘ Redgauntlet,”’ Miss Walkinshaw, if we 
may trust a miniature, was dark; the chief beauty of 
her face being two very large and luminous hazel eyes. 
Lady Louisa Stuart, writing to Scott on June 29, 1824, 


1 Miss Walkinshaw was descended from Baillie, the Covenant- 
ing Principal of Glasgow University 1640-60. 


REDGAUNTLET. Xxi 


thanks him for ‘‘ Redgauntlet,’”’ and gives a vivid de- 
scription of Miss Walkinshaw’s sister, ‘‘the faithful 
Walkie,”’ ‘‘the most eminent and managing gossip in 
London.”? ‘‘My eldest brother, who knew the sister 
in Paris, where she resided with her daughter in a 
convent, described her as a complete Frenchwoman, re- 
taining no mark of her own country, but Catherine was 
a genuine auld wife.’’ Lady Louisa complains that 
‘‘Redgauntlet’’? has ‘‘no story’’—a singular criti- 
cism — ‘‘no love, no hero—unless Redgauntlet him- 
self, who would be such a hero as the Devil in Milton; 
yet in spite of all these wants the interest is so strong, 
one cannot lay it down, and I prophesy a great deal of 
mauling and abuse, and a second edition before the 
maulers know where they are.”’ 

Lady Louisa remarks that she has read the novel 
twice, and she regrets that we have not more of Wan- 
dering Willie. He is, indeed, one of the finest char- 
acters in a book which, for variety and excellence of 
character, has never been excelled, save by Shakspeare. 
Here every one lives, even Peter Peebles. If we think 
that Redgauntlet himself is exaggerated, and that his 
wild schemes are scarcely sane, no fault can be found 
with any of the other persons. They are fresh and 
vivid as from the mind of nature herself. Nanty Ewart, 
the scholarly smuggler, is perhaps the most striking 
and original; but, turn where we will, to Summer- 
trees, to the Provost, the Quakers, the rustic servants, 
to the melancholy and dignified form of the king, or to 
the wicked little Benjie, we find each portrait keenly 
cut, and largely designed. The conspirators them- 
selves, so half-hearted, so unlike the gallant adven- 
turers of ‘‘ Waverley,” are each distinct, each a separate 
human being. Among the novels of Scott, ‘ Red- 
gauntlet ’’ will always be one of the dearest, especially 
to those who love to trace, through his fiction, the hand 


xxii EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION. 


and the temper of the Master. Incidentally, in the ab- 
solute perfection of Wandering Willie’s Tale, he shows 
his complete mastery of brief narrative. Here, for once, 
we seem admitted to his familiar company, in such a 
mood as that which inspired him, in his youth, to 
frighten a stage-coachful of travellers in Fife by the 
story of Archbishop Sharpe’s murder on Magus Moor. 


ANDREW LANG. 
January 1894. 


INTRODUCTION 


TO 


REDGAUNTLET. 


Tue Jacobite enthusiasm of the eighteenth century, 
particularly during the rebellion of 1745, afforded a 
theme, perhaps the finest that could be selected, for 
fictitious composition, founded upon real or probable 
incident. This civil war, and its remarkable events, 
were remembered by the existing generation without 
any degree of the bitterness of spirit which seldom 
fails to attend internal dissension. The Highlanders, 
who formed the principal strength of Charles Edward’s 
army, were an ancient and high-spirited race, peculiar 
in their habits of war and of peace, brave to romance, and 
exhibiting a character turning upon points more adapted 
to poetry than to the prose of real life. Their Prince, 
young, valiant, patient of fatigue, and despising 
danger, heading his army on foot in the most toilsome 
marches, and defeating a regular force in three battles, 
—all these were circumstances fascinating to the imagi- 
nation, and might well be supposed to seduce young 
and enthusiastic minds to the cause in which they 
were found united, although wisdom and reason frowned 
upon the enterprise. 

The adventurous Prince, as is well known, proved to 
be one of those personages who distinguish themselves 
during some single and extraordinarily brilliant period 
of their lives, like the course of a shooting star, at 
which men wonder, as well on account of the briefness, 


XxXiv INTRODUCTION TO 


as the brilliancy of its splendour. A long trace of 
darkness overshadowed the subsequent life of a man, 
who, in his youth, showed himself so capable of great 
undertakings; and, without the painful task of tracing 
his course further, we may say the latter pursuits and 
habits of this unhappy Prince, are those painfully 
evincing a broken heart, which seeks refuge from its 
own thoughts in sordid enjoyments. 

Still, however, it was long ere Charles Edward 
appeared to be, perhaps it was long ere he altogether 
became, so much degraded from his original self; as he 
enjoyed for a time the lustre attending the progress 
and termination of his enterprise. ‘Those who thought 
they discerned in his subsequent conduct an insen- 
sibility to the distresses of his followers, coupled with 
that egotistical attention to his own interests, which 
has been often attributed to the Stewart Family, and 
which is the natural effect of the principles of divine 
right in which they were brought up, were now 
generally considered as dissatisfied and splenetic per- 
sons, who, displeased with the issue of their adventure, 
and finding themselves involved in the ruins of a fall- 
ing cause, indulged themselves in undeserved reproaches 
against their leader. Indeed, such censures were by no 
means frequent among those of his followers, who, if 
what was alleged had been just, had the best right to 
complain. (a)* Far the greater number of those 
unfortunate gentlemen suffered with the most dignified 
patience, and were either too proud to take notice of 
ill treatment on the part of their Prince, or so prudent 
as to be aware their complaints would meet with little 
sympathy from the world. It may be added, that the 
greater part of the banished Jacobites, and those of 


1 See Editor’s Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a 
similar reference occurs, the reader will understand that the same 
direction applies. 


REDGAUNTLET. XXV 


high rank and consequence, were not much within 
reach of the influence of the Prince’s character and. con- 
duct, whether well regulated or otherwise. 

In the meantime, that great Jacobite conspiracy, of 
which the insurrection of 1745-6 was but a small part, 
precipitated into action on the failure of a far more 
general scheme, was resumed and again put into motion 
by the Jacobites of England, whose force had never 
been broken, as they had prudently avoided bringing it 
into the field. The surprising effect which had been 
produced by small means, in 1745-6, animated their 
hopes for more important successes, when the whole 
nonjuring interest of Britain, identified as it then was 
with great part of the landed gentlemen, should come 
forward to finish what had been gallantly attempted by 
a few Highland chiefs. 

It is probable, indeed, that the Jacobites of the day 
were incapable of considering that the very small scale 
on which the effort was made, was in one great measure 
the cause of its unexpected success. The remarkable 
speed with which the insurgents marched, the singu- 
larly good discipline which they preserved, the union 
and unanimity which for some time animated their 
councils, were all in a considerable degree produced by 
the smallness of their numbers. Notwithstanding the 
discomfiture of Charles Edward, the nonjurors of the 
period long continued to nurse unlawful schemes, and 
to drink treasonable toasts, until age stole upon them. 
Another generation arose, who did not share the 
sentiments which they cherished ; and at length the 
sparkles of disaffection, which had long smouldered, 
but had never been heated enough to burst into actual 
flame, became entirely extinguished. But in propor- 
tion as the political enthusiasm died gradually away 
among men of ordinary temperament, it influenced 
those of warm imaginations and weak understandings, 


xxvi INTRODUCTION TO 


and hence wild schemes were formed, as desperate as 
they were adventurous. 

Thus a young Scotchman of rank (0) is said to have 
stooped so low as to plot the surprisal of St. James’s 
palace, and the assassination of the royal family. 
While these ill-digested and desperate conspiracies 
were agitated among the few Jacobites who still adhered 
with more obstinacy to their purpose, there is no ques- 
tion but that other plots might have been brought to an 
open explosion, had it not suited the policy of Sir 
Robert Walpole, rather to prevent or disable the con- 
spirators in their projects, than to promulgate the tale 
of danger, which might thus have been believed to be 
more widely diffused than was really the case. 

In one instance alone this very prudential and 
humane line of conduct was departed from, and the 
events seemed to confirm the policy of the general 
course. Doctor Archibald Cameron, (c) brother of the 
celebrated Donald Cameron of Lochiel, attainted for 
the rebellion of 1745, was found by a party of soldiers 
lurking with a comrade in the wilds of Loch Katrine, 
five or six years after the battle of Culloden, and was 
there seized. There were circumstances in his case, so 
far as was made known to the public, which attracted 
much compassion, and gave to the judicial proceedings 
against him an appearance of cold-blooded revenge on 
the part of government; and the following argument of 
a zealous Jacobite in his favour was received as con- 
clusive by Dr. Johnson, and other persons who might 
pretend to impartiality. Dr. Cameron had never borne 
arms, although engaged in the Rebellion, but used his 
medical skill for the service, indifferently, of the 
wounded of both parties. His return to Scotland was 
ascribed exclusively to family affairs. His behaviour 
at the bar was decent, firm, and respectful. His wife 
threw herself, on three different occasions, before 


REDGAUNTLET. XXVIli 


George IJ. and the members of his family, was rudely 
repulsed from their presence, and at length placed, it 
was said, in the same prison with her husband, and 
confined with unmanly severity. 

Dr. Cameron was finally executed, with all the 
severities of the law of treason; and his death remains 
in popular estimation a dark blot upon the memory of 
George II., being almost publicly imputed to a mean 
and personal hatred of Donald Cameron of Lochiel, the 
sufferer’s heroic brother. 

Yet the fact was, that whether the execution of 
Archibald Cameron was political or otherwise, it might 
certainly have been justified, had the King’s ministers 
so pleased, upon reasons of a public nature. The 
unfortunate sufferer had not come to the Highlands 
solely upon his private affairs, as was the general belief; 
but it was not judged prudent by the English ministry 
to let it be generally known that he came to enquire 
about a considerable sum of money which had been 
remitted from France to the friends of the exiled 
family. He had also a commission to hold intercourse 
with the well known M’Pherson of Cluny, chief of the 
clan Vourich, whom the Chevalier had left behind at 
his departure from Scotland in 1746, and who remained 
during ten years of proscription and danger, skulking 
from place to place in the Highlands, and maintaining 
an uninterrupted correspondence between Charles and his 
friends. That Dr. Cameron should have held a commis- 
sion to assist this chief in raking together the dispersed 
embers of disaffection, is in itself sufficiently natural, 
and, considering his political principles, in no respect 
dishonourable to his memory. But neither ought it to 
be imputed to George II., that he suffered the laws to be 
enforced against a person taken in the act of breaking 
them. When he lost his hazardous game, Dr. Cameron 
only paid the forfeit which he must have calculated 


xxviii ' INTRODUCTION TO 


upon. The ministers, however, thought it proper to 
leave Dr. Cameron’s new schemes in concealment, lest 
by divulging them they had indicated the channel of 
communication which, it is now well known, they 
possessed to all the plots of Charles Edward. But it 
was equally ill advised and ungenerous to sacrifice the 
character of the king to the policy of the administra- 
tion. Both points might have been gained by sparing 
the life of Dr. Cameron after conviction, and limiting 
his punishment to perpetual exile. 

These repeated and successive Jacobite plots rose 
and burst like bubbles on a fountain; and one of them, 
at least, the Chevalier judged of importance enough to 
induce him to risk himself within the dangerous pre- 
cincts of the British capital. This appears from Dr. 
King’s Anecdotes of his Own Times. 

‘‘September, 1750. — I received a note from my 
Lady Primrose, who desired to see me immediately. 
As soon as I waited on her, she led me into her 
dressing-room, and presented me to ? [the Cheva- 
ler, doubtless. | ‘‘ If I was surprised to find him there, 
I was still more astonished when he acquainted me 
with the motives which had induced him to hazard a 
journey to England at this juncture. The impatience 
of his friends who were in exile, had formed a scheme 
which was impracticable; but although it had been 
as feasible as they had represented it to him, yet no 
preparation had been made, nor was any thing ready to 
carry it into execution. He was soon convinced that 
he had been deceived; and, therefore, after a stay in 
London of five days only, he returned to the place from 
whence he came.” Dr. King was in 1750 a keen Jaco- 
bite, as may be inferred from the visit made by him to 
the Prince under such circumstances, and from his 
being one of that unfortunate person’s chosen corre- 
spondents. He, as well as other men of sense and 





REDGAUNTLET. b $4 6 


observation, began to despair of making their fortune 
in the party which they had chosen. It was indeed 
sufficiently dangerous; for, during the short visit just 
described, one of Dr. King’s servants remarked the 
stranger’s likeness to Prince Charles, whom he recog- 
nised from the common busts. 

The occasion taken for breaking up the Stewart 
interest, we shall tell in Dr. King’s own words: — 
‘¢ When he (Charles Edward) was in Scotland, he had a 
mistress whose name was Walkinshaw, and whose sister 
was at that time, and is still, housekeeper at Leicester 
House. Some years after he was released from his 
prison, and conducted out of France, he sent for this 
girl, who soon acquired such a dominion over him, that 
she was acquainted with all his schemes, and trusted 
with his most secret correspondence. As soon as this 
was known in England, all those persons of distinction 
who were attached to him were greatly alarmed: they 
imagined that this wench had been placed in his family 
by the English ministers; and, considering her sister’s 
situation, they seemed to have some ground for their 
suspicion; wherefore, they dispatched a gentleman to 
Paris, where the Prince then was, who had instructions 
to insist that Mrs. Walkinshaw should be removed to a 
convent for a certain term; but her gallant absolutely 
refused to comply with this demand; and although Mr. 
M’Namara, the gentleman who was sent to him, who 
has a natural eloquence, and an excellent understand- 
ing, urged the most cogent reasons, and used all the 
arts of persuasion, to induce him to part with his 
mistress, and even proceeded so far as to assure him, 
according to his instructions, that an immediate 
interruption of all correspondence with his most power- 
ful friends in England, and, in short, that the ruin of 
his interest, which was now daily increasing, would be 


3) 
the infallible consequence of his refusal; yet he con- 


XXX INTRODUCTION TO 


tinued inflexible, and all M’Namara’s entreaties and 
remonstrances were ineffectual. M’Namara staid in 
Paris some days beyond the time prescribed him, 
endeavouring to reason the Prince into a better temper; 
but finding him obstinately persevere in his first answer, 
he took his leave with concern and indignation, saying, 
as he passed out, ‘What has your family done, sir, 
thus to draw down the vengeance of Heaven on every 
branch of it, through so many ages?’ It is worthy 
of remark, that in all the conferences which M’Namara 
had with the Prince on this occasion, the latter declared 
that it was not a violent passion, or indeed any partic- 
ular regard, which attached him to Mrs. Walkinshaw, 
and that he could see her removed from him without 
any concern; but he would not receive directions, in 
respect to his private conduct, from any man alive. 
When M’Namara returned to London, and reported 
the Prince’s answer to the gentlemen who had employed 
him, they were astonished and confounded. However, 
they soon resolved on the measures which they were to 
pursue for the future, and determined no longer to serve 
a man who could not be persuaded to serve himself, 
and chose rather to endanger the lives of his best and 
most faithful friends, than part with an harlot, whom, 
as he often declared, he neither loved nor esteemed.” 
From this anecdote, the general truth of which is 
indubitable, the principal fault of Charles Edward’s 
temper is sufficiently obvious. It was a high sense of 
his own importance, and an obstinate adherence to 
what he had once determined on — qualities which, if 
he had succeeded in his bold attempt, gave the nation 
little room to hope that he would have been found free 
from the love of prerogative and desire of arbitrary 
power, which characterised his unhappy grandfather. 
He gave a notable instance how far this was the lead- 
ing feature of his character, when, for no reasonable 


REDGAUNTLET. XXxi 


cause that can be assigned, he placed his own single 
will in opposition to the necessities of France, which, 
in order to purchase a peace become necessary to the 
kingdom, was reduced to gratify Britean by prohibiting 
the residence of Charles within any part of the French 
dominions. It was in vain that France endeavoured to 
lessen the disgrace of this step by making the most 
flattering offers, in hopes to induce the Prince of him- 
self to anticipate this disagreeable alternative, which, 
if seriously enforced, as it was likely to be, he had no 
means whatever of resisting, by leaving the kingdom as 
of his own free-will. Inspired, however, by the spirit of 
hereditary obstinacy, Charles preferred a useless resis- 
tance to a dignified submission, and by a series of idle 
bravadoes, laid the French court under the necessity 
of arresting their late ally, and sending him to close 
confinement in the Bastile, (d@) from which he was 
afterwards sent out of the French dominions, much in 
the manner in which a convict is transported to the 
place of his destination. 

In addition to these repeated instances of a rash and 
inflexible temper, Dr. King also adds faults alleged to 
belong to the Prince’s character, of a kind less conso- 
nant with his noble birth and high pretensions. He is 
said by this author to have been avaricious, or parsi- 
monious at least, to such a degree of meanness, as to 
fail, even when he had ample means, in relieving the 
sufferers who had lost their fortune, and sacrificed their 
all in his ill-fated attempt.1 We must receive, how- 


1 The reproach is thus expressed by Dr. King, who brings the 
charge : — “ But the most odious part of his character is his love 
of money, a vice which I do not remember to have been imputed 
by our historians to any of his ancestors, and is the certain index of 
a base and little mind. I know it may be urged in his vindication, 
that a Prince in exile ought to be an economist. And so he 
ought; but, nevertheless, his purse should be always open as long 


xxxii INTRODUCTION TO 


ever, with some degree of jealousy what is said by Dr. 
King on this subject, recollecting that he had left at 
least, if he did not desert, the standard of the unfortu- 
nate Prince, and was not therefore a person who was 
likely to form the fairest estimate of his virtues and 
faults. We must also remember, that if the exiled 
Prince gave little, he had but little to give, espe- 
cially considering how late he nourished the scheme of 
another expedition to Scotland, for which he was long 
endeavouring to hoard money. 

The case, also, of Charles Edward must be allowed 
to have been a difficult one. He had to satisfy numer- 
ous persons, who, having lost their all in his cause, 
had, with that all, seen the extinction of hopes which 
they accounted nearly as good as certainties ; some of 
these were perhaps clamorous in their applications, 
and certainly ill pleased with their want of success. 
Other parts of the Chevalier’s conduct may have 
afforded grounds for charging him with coldness to the 
sufferings of his devoted followers. One of these was 
a sentiment which has nothing in it that is generous, 
but it was certainly a principle in which the young 
Prince was trained, and which may be too probably 
denominated peculiar to his family, educated in all the 
high notions of passive obedience and non-resistance. 
If the unhappy Prince gave implicit faith to the pro- 
fessions of statesmen holding such notions, which is 
implied by his whole conduct, it must have led to the 


as there is any thing in it, to relieve the necessities of his friends and 
adherents. King Charles II., during his banishment, would have 
shared the last pistole in his pocket with his little family. But I 
have known this gentleman with two thousand louis-d’ors in his 
strong box, pretend he was in great distress, and borrow money 
from a lady in Paris who was not in affluent circumstances. His 
most faithful servants, who had closely attended him in all his 
difficulties, were ill rewarded.” — Kine’s Memoirs. 


REDGAUNTLET. XXxili 


natural, though ungracious inference, that the services 
of a subject could not, to whatever degree of ruin they 
might bring the individual, create a debt against his 
sovereign. Such a person could only boast that he had 
done his duty ; nor was he entitled to be a claimant 
for a greater reward than it was convenient for the 
Prince to bestow, or to hold his sovereign his debtor 
for losses which he had sustained through his loyalty. 
To a certain extent the Jacobite principles inevitably 
led to this cold and egotistical mode of reasoning on 
the part of the sovereign ; nor, with all our natural 
pity for the situation of royalty in distress, do we feel 
entitled to affirm that Charles did not use this opiate 
to his feelings, on viewing the misery of his follow- 
ers, while he certainly possessed, though in no great 
degree, the means of affording them more relief than 
he practised. His own history, after leaving France, 
is brief and melancholy. For a time he seems to have 
held the firm belief that Providence, which had borne 
him through so many hazards, still reserved him for 
some distant occasion, in which he should be empowered 
to vindicate the honours of his birth. But opportunity 
after opportunity slipt by unimproved, and the death 
of his father gave him the fatal proof that none of the 
principal powers of Europe were, after that event, 
likely to interest themselves in his quarrel. They 
refused to acknowledge him under the title of the King 
of England, and, on his part, he declined to be then 
recognised as the Prince of Wales. 

Family discord came to add its sting to those of 
disappointed ambition; and, though a humiliating 
circumstance, itis generally acknowledged, that Charles 
Edward, the adventurous, the gallant, and the hand- 
some, the leader of a race of pristine valour, whose 
romantic qualities may be said to have died along with 
him, had, in his latter days, yielded to those humiliat- 


c 


XXXIV INTRODUCTION TO 


ing habits of intoxication, in which the meanest 
mortals seek to drown the recollection of their disap- 
pointments and miseries. Under such circumstances, 
the unhappy Prince lost the friendship even of those 
faithful followers who had most devoted themselves to 
his misfortunes, and was surrounded, with some hon- 
ourable exceptions, by men of a lower description, 
regardless of the character which he was himself no 
longer able to protect. 

It is a fact consistent with the author’s knowledge, 
that persons totally unentitled to, and unfitted for, 
such a distinction, were presented to the unfortunate 
Prince in moments unfit for presentation of any kind. 
Amid these clouds was at length extinguished the 
torch which once shook itself over Britain with such 
terrific glare, and at last sunk in its own ashes, scarce 
remembered and scarce noted. 

Meantime, while the life of Charles Edward was 
gradually wasting in disappointed solitude, the number 
of those who had shared his misfortunes and dangers 
had shrunk into a small handful of veterans, the heroes 
of a tale which had been told. Most Scottish readers 
who can count the number of sixty years, must recol- 
lect many respected acquaintances of their youth, who, 
as the established phrase gently worded it, had been 
out in the Forty-five. It may be said, that their 
political principles and plans no longer either gained 
proselytes or attracted terror, —those who held them 
had ceased to be the subjects either of fear or opposi- 
tion. Jacobites were looked upon in society as men 
who had proved their sincerity by sacrificing their 
interest to their principles; and in well-regulated 
companies, it was held a piece of ill-breeding to injure 
their feelings or ridicule the compromises by which 
they endeavoured to keep themselves abreast of the 
current of the day. Such, for example, was the eva- 


REDGAUNTLET. XXXV 


sion of a gentleman of fortune in Perthshire, who, in 
having the newspapers read to him, caused the King 
and Queen to be designated by the initial letters of K. 
and Q., as if, by naming the full word, he might 
imply an acquiescence in the usurpation of the family 
of Hanover. George III., having heard of this gentle- 
man’s custom in the above and other particulars, 
commissioned the member for Perthshire to carry his 
compliments to the steady Jacobite — ‘‘ that is,” said 
the excellent old King, ‘‘not the compliments of the 
King of England, but those of the Elector of Hanover, 
and tell him how much I respect him for the steadiness 
of his principles.’’ | 

Those who remember such old men, will probably 
agree that the progress of time, which has withdrawn 
all of them from the field, has removed, at the same 
time, a peculiar and striking feature of ancient man- 
ners. Their love of past times, their tales of bloody 
battles fought against romantic odds, were all dear to 
the imagination, and their little idolatry of locks of 
hair, pictures, rings, ribbons, and other memorials of 
the time in which -they still seemed to live, was an 
interesting enthusiasm ; and although their political 
principles, had they existed in the relation of fathers, 
might have rendered them dangerous to the existing 
dynasty, yet, as we now recollect them, there could not 
be on the earth supposed to exist persons better quali- 
fied to sustain the capacity of innocuous and respectable 
grandsires. 

It was while reflecting on these things that the 
novel of Redgauntlet was undertaken. But various 
circumstances in the composition induced the author 
to alter its purport considerably, as it passed through 
his hands, and to carry the action to that point of 
time when the Chevalier Charles Edward, though 
fallen into the sere and yellow leaf, was yet meditating 


XXXVI INTRODUCTION. 


a second attempt, which could scarcely have been more 
hopeless than his first ; although one, to which, as we 
have seen, the unfortunate Prince, at least as late as 
seventeen hundred and fifty-three, (e) still looked with 
hope and expectation. 


Ist April, 1832. 


REDGAUNTLET. 


LETTER I. 


DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD. 


Dumfries. 

Cur me exanimas querelis tuis? (f)—In plain 
English, Why do you deafen me with your croaking ? 
The disconsolate tone in which you bade me fare- 
well at Noble-House,! and mounted your miserable 
hack to return to your law drudgery, still sounds 
in my ears. It seemed to say, “Happy dog! you 
can ramble at pleasure over hill and dale, pursue 
every object of curiosity that presents itself, and 
relinquish the chase when it loses interest; while I, 
your senior and your better, must, in this brilliant 
season, return to my narrow chamber and my musty 
books.” 

Such was the import of the reflections with which 
you saddened our parting bottle of claret, and thus 
I must needs interpret the terms of your melancholy 
adieu. 

And why should this be so, Alan? Why the 
deuce should you not be sitting precisely opposite 
to me at this moment, in the same comfortable 
George Inn; thy heels on the fender, and thy jurid- 

1 The first stage on the road from Edinburgh to Dumfries, 


via Moffat. 
VOL. I1.— 1 


2 REDGAUNTLET. 


ical brow expanding its plications as a pun rose in 
your fancy? Above all, why, when I fill this 
very glass of wine, cannot I push the bottle to you, 
and say, ‘‘ Fairford, you are chased!” Why, I say, 
should not all this be, except because Alan Fairford 
has not the same true sense of friendship as 
Darsie Latimer, and will not regard our purses as 
‘common as well as our sentiments ? 

Tam alone in the world; my only guardian writes 
to me of a large fortune, which will be mine when 
I reach the age of twenty-five complete; my present 
income is, thou knowest, more than sufficient for 
all my wants ; and yet thou — traitor as thou art to 
the cause of friendship —dost deprive me of the 
pleasure of thy society, and submittest, besides, to 
self-denial on thine own part, rather than my wan- 
derings should cost me a few guineas more! Is this 
regard for my purse, or for thine own pride? Is it 
not equally absurd and unreasonable, whichever 
source it springs from? For myself, I tell thee, I 
have, and shall have, more than enough for both. 
This same methodical Samuel Griffiths, of Iron- 
monger-Lane, Guildhall, London, whose letter 
arrives as duly as quarter-day, has sent me, as I told 
thee, double allowance for this my twenty-first birth- 
day, and an assurance, in his brief fashion, that it 
will be again doubled for the succeeding years, until 
I enter into possession of my own property. Still 
I am to refrain from visiting England until my 
twenty-fifth year expires; and it is recommended 
that I shall forbear all enquiries concerning my 
family, and so forth, for the present. 

Were it not that I recollect my poor mother in 
her deep widow’s weeds, with a countenance that 
never smiled but when she looked on me — and then, 


REDGAUNTLET. 3 


in such wan and woful sort, as the sun when he 
glances through an April cloud — were it not, I say, 
that her mild and matron-like form and countenance 
forbid such a suspicion, I might think myself the 
son of some Indian director, or rich citizen, who had 
more wealth than grace, and a handful of hypocrisy 
to boot, and who was breeding up privately, and 
obscurely enriching, one of whose existence he had 
some reason to be ashamed. But, as I said before, 
I think on my mother, and am convinced as much 
as of the existence of my own soul, that no touch 
of shame could arise from aught in which she was 
implicated. Meantime, I am wealthy, and I am 
alone, and why does my friend scruple to share my 
wealth ? 

Are you not my only friend? and have you not 
acquired a right to share my wealth? Answer me 
that, Alan Fairford. When I was brought from the 
solitude of my mother’s dwelling into the tumult 
of the Gaits’ Class (g) at the High School — when 
I was mocked for my English accent — salted with 
snow as a Southern —rolled in the gutter for a 
Saxon pock-pudding, — who, with stout arguments, 
and stouter blows, stood forth my defender ? — why, 
Alan Fairford. Who beat me soundly when I 
brought the arrogance of an only son, and of course 
a spoiled urchin, to the forms of the little republic ? 
— why, Alan. And who taught me to smoke a 
cobbler, pin a losen, head a bicker, and hold the 
bannets ?1— Alan, once more. If I became the 
pride of the Yards, and the dread of the hucksters 
in the High-School Wynd, it was under thy patron- 


1 Break a window, head a skirmish with stones, and hold the 
bonnet or handkerchief, which used to divide high-school boys 
when fighting. 


- REDGAUNTLET. 


age; and, but for thee, I had been contented with 
humbly passing through the Cowgate-Port, with- 
out climbing over the top of it, and had never seen 
the Kittle nine-steps! nearer than from Bareford’s 
Parks. You taught me to keep my fingers off the 
weak, and to clench my fist against the strong — to 
carry no tales out of school — to stand forth like a 
true man—obey the stern order of a Pande 
manum, and endure my pawmies without wincing, 
like one that is determined not to be the better 
for them. In a word, before I knew thee, I knew 
nothing. 

At College it was the same. When I was 
incorrigibly idle, your example and encouragement 
roused me to mental exertion, and showed me the 
way to intellectual enjoyment. You made me an 
historian, a metaphysician, (invita Minerva,) — nay, 
by Heaven! you had almost made an advocate of 
me, as well as of yourself. Yes, rather than part 
with you, Alan, I attended a weary season at the 
Scotch Law Class; a wearier at the Civil; and with 
what excellent advantage, my note-book filled with 


1 A pass on the very brink of the Castle-rock to the north, by 
which it is just possible for a goat, or a high-school boy, to turn 
the corner of the building where it rises from the edge of the 
precipice. This was so favourite a feat with the “hell and neck 
boys” of the higher classes, that at one time sentinels were posted 
to prevent its repetition. One of the nine-steps was rendered 
more secure because the climber could take hold of the root of a 
nettle, so precarious were the means of passing this celebrated 
spot. The manning the Cowgate Port, especially in snow-ball 
time, was also a choice amusement, as it offered an inaccessible 
station for the boys who used these missiles to the annoyance of 
the passengers. The gateway is now demolished; and probably 
most of its garrison lie as low as the fortress. To recollect that 
the author himself, however naturally disqualified, was one of 
those juvenile dreadnoughts, is a sad reflection to one who cannot 
now step over a brook without assistance. 


REDGAUNTLET. 5 


caricatures of the professors and my fellow-students, 
is it not yet extant to testify ? 


“Thus far have I held on with thee untired ;”’ 


and, to say truth, purely and solely that I might 
travel the same road with thee. But it will not 
do, Alan. By my faith, man, I could as soon think 
of being one of those ingenious traders who cheat 
little Master Jackies on the outside of the partition 
with tops, balls, bats, and battledores, as a mem- 
ber of the long-robed fraternity within, who impose 
on grown country gentlemen with bouncing bro- 
cards of law.! Now, don’t you read this to your 
worthy father, Alan— he loves me well enough, I 
know, of a Saturday night; but he thinks me but 
idle company for any other day of the week. And 
here, I suspect, lies your real objection to taking a 
ramble with me through the southern counties in 
this delicious weather. I know the good gentleman 
has hard thoughts of me for being so unsettled as 
to leave Edinburgh before the Session rises; per- 
haps, too, he quarrels a little —I will not say, with 
my want of ancestry, but with my want of con- 
nexions. He reckons me a lone thing in this world, 
Alan, and so in good truth Iam; and it seems a 
reason to him why you should not attach yourself to 
‘me, that I can claim no interest in the general herd. 


1 The Hall of the Parliament House of Edinburgh was, in for- 
mer days, divided into two unequal portions by a partition, the 
inner side of which was consecrated to the use of the Courts of 
Justice and the gentlemen of the law; while the outer division 
was occupied by the stalls of stationers, toymen, and the like, as in 
a modern bazaar. From the old play of the Plain Dealer, it seems 
such was formerly the case with Westminster-Hall. Minos has 
now purified his courts in both cities from all traffic but his 
own. 


6 REDGAUNTLBET. 


Do not suppose I forget what I owe him, for 
permitting me to shelter for four years under his 
roof: My obligations to him are not the less, but 
the greater, if he never heartily loved me. He is 
angry, too, that I will not, or cannot, be a lawyer, 
and, with reference to you, considers my disinclina- 
tion that way as pessimi exempli, as he might 
say. 
But he need not be afraid that a lad of your 
steadiness will be influenced by such a reed shaken 
by the winds as I am. You will go on doubting 
with Dirleton, and resolving those doubts with 
Stewart, ! until the cramp speech? has been spoken 
more solito from the corner of the bench, and with 
covered head — until you have sworn to defend 
the liberties and privileges of the College of Justice 
—until the black gown is hung on your shoulders, 
and you are free as any of the Faculty to sue 
or defend. Then will I step forth, Alan, and in a 
character which even your father will allow may be 
more useful to you than had I shared this splendid 


1“Sir John Nisbett of Dirleton’s Doubts and Questions upon 
the Law, especially of Scotland; ” and, “ Sir James Stewart’s 
Dirleton’s Doubts and Questions on the Law of Scotland resolved 
and answered,” are works of authority in Scottish jurisprudence. 
As is generally the case, the Doubts are held more in respect than 
the solution. 

2 Till of late years, every advocate who entered at the Scottish 
bar made a Latin address to the Court, faculty, and audience, 
in set terms, and said a few words upona text of the civil law, 
to show his Latinity and jurisprudence. He also wore his hat 
for a minute, in order to vindicate his right of being covered 
before the court, which is said to have originated from the 
celebrated lawyer, Sir Thomas Hope, having two sons on the 
Bench while he himself remained at the bar. Of late this ceremony 
has been dispensed with, as occupying the time of the court 
unnecessarily. The entrant lawyer merely takes the oaths to 
government, and swears to maintain the rules and privileges of 
his order. 


REDGAUNTLET. 7 


termination of your legal studies. In a word, if I 
cannot be a counsel, I am determined to be a client, 
a sort of person without whom a lawsuit would be 
as dull as a supposed case. Yes, I am determined 
to give you your first fee. One can easily, | am 
assured, get into a lawsuit — itis only the getting 
out which is sometimes found troublesome ; — and, 
with your kind father for an agent, and you for 
my counsel learned in the law, and the worshipful 
Master Samuel Griffiths to back me, a few sessions 
shall not tire my patience. In short, I will make 
my way into Court, even if it should cost me the 
committing a delict, or at least a quasi delict. — You 
see all is not lost of what Erskine wrote, and Wal- 
lace taught. 

Thus far I have fooled it off well enough; and 
yet, Alan, all is not at—ease—within-me- I am 
affected with a sense of loneliness, the more depress- 
ing, that it seems to me to be a solitude peculiarly 
my own. In a country where all the world have 
a circle of consanguinity, extending to sixth cou- 
sins at least, I am a solitary individual, having 
only one kind heart to throb in unison with my 
own. If I were condemned to labour for my bread, 
methinks I should less regard this peculiar species 
of deprivation. The necessary communication of 
master and servant would be at least a tie which 
would attach me to the rest of my kind —as it is, 
my very independence seems to enhance the pecu- 
larity of my situation. I am in the world as a 
stranger in the crowded coffeehouse, where he 
enters, calls for what refreshments he wants, pays 
his bill, and is forgotten so soon as the waiter’s mouth 
has pronounced his “ Thank ye, sir.” 

I know your good father would term this sin- 


8 REDGAUNTLET. 


ning my mercies,+ and ask how I should feel if, 
instead of being able to throw down my reckoning, 
I were obliged to deprecate the resentment of the 
landlord for consuming that which I could not pay 
for. I cannot tell how itis; but, though this very 
reasonable reflection comes across me, and though 
I do confess that four hundred a-year in possession, 
eight hundred in near prospect, and the L—d knows 
how many hundreds more in the distance, are very 
pretty and comfortable things, yet I would freely 
give one half of them to call your father father, 
though he should scold me for my idleness every 
hour of the day, and to call you brother, though a 
brother whose merits would throw my own so com- 
pletely into the shade. 

The faint, yet not improbable belief often has 
come across me, that your father knows something 
more about my birth and natural condition than he 
is willing to communicate; it is so unlikely that I 
should have been left in Edinburgh at six years old, 
without any other recommendation than the regular 
payment of my board to old M * of the High 
School. Before that time, as I have often told you, 
I have but a recollection of unbounded indulgence 
on my mother’s part, and the most tyrannical exer- 
tion of capriceon my own. I remember still how 
bitterly she sighed, how vainly she strove to soothe 
me, while, in the full energy of despotism, I roared 
like ten bull calves, for something which it was 
impossible to procure for me. She is dead, that 





1 A peculiar Scottish phrase, expressive of ingratitude for the 
favours of Providence. 

2 Probably Mathieson, the predecessor of Dr. Adams, to whose 
memory the author and his contemporaries owe a deep debt of 
gratitude. 


REDGAUNTLET. 9 


kind, that ill-rewarded mother! I remember the 
long faces —the darkened room — the black hang- 
ings — the mysterious impression made upon my 
mind by the hearse and mourning coaches, and the 
difficulty which I had to reconcile all this to the 
disappearance of my mother. I do not think I had 
before this event formed any idea of death, or that 
I had even heard of that final consummation of all 
that lives. The first acquaintance which I formed 
with it deprived me of my only relation. 

A clergyman of venerable appearance, our only 
visitor, was my guide and companion in a journey 
of considerable length ; and in the charge of another 
elderly man, substituted in his place, I know not 
how or why, I completed my journey to Scotland — 
and this is all I recollect. 

I repeat the little history now, as I have a hun- 
dred times done before, merely because I would 
wring some sense out of it. Turn, then, thy sharp, 
wire-drawing, lawyer-like ingenuity to the same 
task — make up my history as though thou wert 
shaping the blundering allegations of some blue- 
bonneted, hard-headed client, into a condescendence 
of facts and circumstances, and thou shalt be, not 
my Apollo — quid tebt cum lyra ?—but my Lord 
Stair.1 Meanwhile, I have written» myself.out of 
my melancholy and. blue devils, merely by-—prosing 
about them; so I will now converse half an hour 
with Roan Robin in his stall — the rascal knows me 
already, and snickers whenever I cross the threshold 
of the stable. 

The black which you bestrode yesterday morn- 
ing, promises to be an admirable roadster, and 
ambled as easily with Sam and the portmanteau, 

1 Celebrated as a Scottish lawyer. 


10 REDGAUNTLET. 


as with you and your load of law-learning. Sam 
promises to be steady, and has hitherto been so. 
No long trial, you will say. He lays the blame of 
former inaccuracies on evil company — the people 
who were at the livery-stable were too seductive, 
I suppose — he denies he ever did the horse injus- 
tice — would rather have wanted his own dinner, he 
says. In this I believe him, as Roan Robin’s ribs 
and coat show no marks of contradiction. How- 
ever, as he will meet with no saints in the inns we 
frequent, and as oats are sometimes as speedily con- 
verted into ale as John Barleycorn himself, I shall 
keep a look-out after Master Sam. Stupid fellow! 
had he not abused my good nature, 1 might have 
chatted to him to keep my tongue in exercise ; 
whereas now, I must keep him at a distance. 

Do you remember what Mr. Fairford said to me 
on this subject, — it did not become my father’s son 
to speak in that manner to Sam’s father’s son? I 
asked you what your father could possibly know 
of mine; and you answered, ‘As much, you sup- 
posed, as he knew of Sam’s —it was a proverbial 
expression.” This did not quite satisfy me, though 
Iam sure I cannot tell why it should not. But I 
am returning to a fruitless and exhausted subject. 
Do not be afraid that I shall come back on this 
well-trodden yet pathless field of conjecture. I 
know nothing so useless, so utterly feeble and con- 
temptible, as the groaning forth one’s helpless 
lamentations into the ears of our friends. 

I would fain promise you that my letters shall 
be as entertaining, as I am determined they shall be 
regular and well filled. We have an advantage 
over the dear friends of old, every pair of them. 
Neither David and Jonathan, nor Orestes and 


REDGAUNTLET. II 


Pylades, nor Damon and Pythias — although, in the 
latter case particularly, a letter by post would have 
been very acceptable — ever corresponded together ; 
for they probably could not write, and certainly had 
neither posts nor franks to speed their effusions to 
each other ; whereas yours, which you had from the 
old peer, being handled gently, and opened with 
precaution, may be returned to me again, and serve 
to make us free of his Majesty’s post-office, during 
the whole time of my proposed tour.t Mercy upon 
us, Alan ! what letters I shall have to send you, with 
an account of all that I can collect, of pleasant or 
rare, in this wildgoose jaunt of mine! All I stipu- 
late is, that you do not communicate them to the 
Scots Magazine; for though you used, in a left- 
handed way, to compliment me on my attainments 
in the lighter branches of literature, at the expense 
of my deficiency in the weightier matters of the 
law, I am not yet audacious enough to enter the 
portal which the learned Ruddiman (f) so kindly 
opened for the acolytes of the Muses.— Vale, sis 
memor mer. 


DIME 


P. S.— Direct to the. Post-Office here. I shall 
leave orders to forward your letters wherever I 
may travel. 


1 Tt is well known and remembered, that when Members of 
Parliament enjoyed the unlimited privilege of franking by the 
mere writing the name on the cover, it was extended to the 
most extraordinary occasions. One noble lord, to express his 
regard for a particular regiment, franked a letter for every rank 
and file. It was customary also to save the covers and return 
them, in order that the correspondence might be carried on as 
long as the envelopes could hold together. 


LETTER II. 
ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER. 


Negatur, my dear Darsie—you have logic and 
law enough to understand the word of denial. I 
deny your conclusion. The premises I admit, 
namely, that when I mounted on that infernal 
hack, I might utter what seemed a sigh, although 
IT deemed it lost amid the puffs and groans of the 
broken-winded brute, matchless in the complication 
of her complaints by any save she, the poor man’s 
mare, renowned in song, that died 


‘¢ A mile aboon Dundee.” 4 


But credit me, Darsie, the sigh which escaped me, 
concerned thee more than myself, and regarded 
neither the superior mettle of your cavalry, nor 
your greater command of the means of travelling. 
I could certainly have cheerfully ridden on with 
you for a few days ; and assure yourself I would not 
have hesitated to tax your better-filled purse for 
our joint expenses. But you know my father con- 
siders every moment taken from the law as a step 
down hill; and I owe much to his anxiety on my 
account, although its effects are sometimes trouble- 
some. For example. 

1 Alluding, as all Scotsmen know, to the humorous old 
song :— 

. “The auld man’s mare’s dead, 

The puir man’s mare’s dead, 


The auld man’s mare’s dead, 
A mile aboon Dundee.’ 


REDGAUNTLET. 13 


I found, on my arrival at the shop in Brown’s 
Square, that the old gentleman had returned that 
very evening, impatient, it seems, of remaining a 
night out of the guardianship of the domestic Lares. 
Having this information from James, whose brow 
wore rather an anxious look on the occasion, I dis- 
patched a Highland chairman to the livery stable 
with my Bucephalus, and slunk, with as little noise 
as might be, into my own den, where I began to 
mumble certain half-gnawed and not half-digested 
doctrines of our municipal code. I was not long 
seated, when my father’s visage was thrust, in a 
peering sort of way, through the half-opened door ; 
and withdrawn, on seeing my occupation, with a 
half-articulated humph ! which seemed to convey 
a doubt of the seriousness of my application. If it 
were so, I cannot condemn him ; for recollection of 
thee occupied me so entirely during an hour's 
reading, that although Stair lay before me, and not- \ 
withstanding that I turned over three or four pages, 
the sense of his lordship’s clear and perspicuous 
style so far escaped me, that I had the mortification 
to find my labour was utterly in vain. 

Ere I had brought up my lee-way, James appeared 
with his summons to our frugal supper — radishes, 
cheese, and a bottle of the old ale—only two 
plates though —and no chair set for Mr. Darsie, 
by the attentive James Wilkinson. Said James, 
with his long face, lank hair, and very long pigtail in} 
its leathern strap, was placed, as usual, at the back 
of my father’s chair, upright as a wooden sentinel 
at the door of a puppet-show. “You may go down, 
James,” said my father; and exit Wilkinson. — 
What is to come next ? thought I; for the weather 
is not clear on the paternal brow. 


4 REDGAUNTLET. 


My boots encountered his first glance of displea- 
sure, and he asked me, with a sneer, which way I 
had been riding. He expected me to answer, “ No- 
where,” and would then have been at me with his 
usual sarcasm, touching the humour of walking in 
shoes at twenty shillings a pair. But I answered 
with composure, that I had ridden out to dinner as 
far as Noble-House. He started, (you know his 
way,) as if I had said that I had dined at Jericho; 
and as I did not choose to seem to observe his 
surprise, but continued munching my radishes in 
tranquillity, he broke forth in ire. 

“To Noble-House, sir! and what had you to do 
at Noble-House, sir? -—— Do you remember you are 
studying law, sir? —that your Scots law trials are 
coming on, sir ?— that every moment of your time 
just now is worth hours at another time ? — and have 
you leisure to go to Noble-House, sir? —and to 
throw your books behind you for so many hours ? 
— Had it been a turn in the Meadows, or even a 
game at golf — but Noble-House, sir!” 

“JT went so far with Darsie Latimer, sir, to see 
him begin his journey.” 

“Darsie Latimer?” he replied in a softened tone 
— “Humph !— Well, I do not blame you for being 
kind to Darsie Latimer ; but it would have done as 
much good if you had walked with him as far as 
the toll-bar, and then made your farewells — it would 
have saved horse-hire — and your reckoning, too, at 
dinner.” 

“Latimer paid that, sir,” I replied, thinking to 
soften the matter; but I had much better have 
left it unspoken. 

“The reckoning, sir?” replied my father. “And 
did you sponge upon any man for a reckoning? Sir, 


REDGAUNTLET. 5 


no man should enter the door of a public-house 
without paying his lawing.” 

“JT admit the general rule, sir,’ I replied; “but 
this was a parting-cup between Darsie and me; 
and I should conceive it fell under the exception of 
Doch an dorroch.” 

“You think yourself a wit,’ said my father, with 
as near an approach to a smile as ever he per- 
mits to gild the solemnity of his features; “But I 
reckon you did not eat your dinner standing, like 
the Jews at their Passover? and it was decided 
in a case before the town-bailies of Cupar-Angus, 
when Luckie Simpson’s cow (7) had drunk up Luckie 
Jameson’s browst of ale, while it stood in the door 
to cool, that there was no damage to pay, because 
the crummie drank without sitting down; such 
being the very circumstance constituting Doch an 
dorroch, which is a standing drink, for which no 
reckoning is paid. Ha, sir! what says your advo- 
cateship (jiert) to that? Laceptio firmat reqgulam 
— But come, fill your glass, Alan; I am not sorry 
ye have shown this attention to Darsie Latimer, 
who is a good lad, as times go; and having now 
lived under my roof since he left the school, why, 
there is really no great matter in coming under this 
small obligation to him.” 

As I saw my father’s scruples were much softened 
by the consciousness of his superiority in the legal 
areument, I took care to accept my pardon as a 
matter of grace, rather than of justice; and only 
rephed, we should feel ourselves duller of an even- 
ing, now that you were absent. I will give you my 
father’s exact words in reply, Darsie. You know 
him so well, that they will not offend you; and 
you are also aware, that there mingles with the 


16 REDGAUNTLET. 


good man’s preciseness and formality, a fund of 
shrewd observation and practical good sense. 

“Tt is very true,” he said; “ Darsie was a pleasant 
companion — but over waggish, over waggish, Alan, 
and somewhat scatter-brained.— By the way, Wil- 
kinson must get our ale bottled in English pints 
now, for a quart bottle is too much, night after 
night, for you and me, without his assistance. — 
But Darsie, as I was saying, is an arch lad, and 
somewhat lght in the upper story—I wish him 
well through the world; but he has little solidity, 
Alan, little solidity.” 

I scorn to desert an absent friend, Darsie, so I 
said for you a little more than my conscience war- 
ranted: but your defection from your legal studies 
had driven you far to leeward in my father’s good 
Opinion. 

“ Unstable as water, he shall not excel,” said my 
father; “or, as the Septuagint hath it, Hffusa est 
sicut aqgua—non ecrescat. He goeth to dancing- 
houses, and readeth novels — sat est.” 

I endeavoured to parry these texts by observing, 
that the dancing-houses amounted only to one night 
at La Pique’s ball—the novels (so far as matter 
of notoriety, Darsie) to an odd volume of Tom 
Jones. 

“But he danced from night to morning,” replied 
my father, “and he read the idle trash, which the 
author should have been scourged for, at least 
twenty times over. It was never out of his 
hand.” 

I then hinted, that in all probability your fortune 
was now so easy as to dispense with your prosecut- 
ing the law any farther than you had done; and 
therefore you might think you had some title to 


REDGAUNTLET. 17 


amuse yourself. This was the least palatable areu- 
ment of all. 

“Tf he cannot amuse himself with the law,” said 
my father, snappishly, “it is the worse for him. If 
he needs not law to teach him to make a fortune, 
I am sure he needs it to teach him how to keep 
one; and it would better become him to be learn- 
ing this, than to be scouring the country like a 
landlouper, going he knows not where, to see he 
knows not what, and giving treats at Noble-House 
to fools like himself,” (an angry glance at poor me.) 
“ Noble-House, indeed!” he repeated, with elevated 
voice and sneering tone, as if there were something 
offensive to him in the very name, though I will 
venture to say that any place in which you had 
been extravagant enough to spend five shillings, 
would have stood as deep in his reprobation. 

Mindful of your idea, that my father knows 
more of your real situation than he thinks proper 
to mention, I thought I would hazard a fishing 
observation. “I did not see,” I said, “how the 
Scottish law would be useful to a young gentleman 
whose fortune would seem to be vested in England.” 
—JI really thought my father would have beat me. 

“D’ye mean to come round me, sir, per ambages, 
as Counsellor Pest says? What is it to you where 
Darsie Latimer’s fortune is vested, or whether he 
hath any fortune, ay or no ?— And what ill would 
the Scottish law do to him, though he had as much 
of it as either Stair or Bankton, sir? Is not the 
foundation of our municipal law the ancient code of 
the Roman Empire, devised at a time when it was 
so much renowned for its civil polity, sir, and wis- 
dom? Go to your bed, sir, after your expedition to 
Noble-House, and see that your lamp be burning, 

VOL. I.—2 


18 REDGAUNTLET. 


and your book before you, ere the sun peeps. Ars 
longa, vita brevis, — were it not a sin to call the 
divine science of the law by the inferior name of art.” 

So my lamp did burn, dear Darsie, the next 
morning, though the owner took the risk of a domi- 
ciliary visitation, and lay snug in bed, trusting its 
glimmer might, without farther enquiry, be received 
as sufficient evidence of his vigilance. And now, 
upon this the third morning after your departure, 
things are but little better; for though the lamp 
burns in my den, and Voet on the Pandects hath 
his wisdom spread open before me, yet as I only use 
him as a reading-desk on which to scribble this sheet 
of nonsense to Darsie Latimer, it is probable the 
vicinity will be of little furtherance to my studies. 

And now, methinks, I hear thee call me an affected 
hypocritical varlet, who, living under such a system 
of distrust and restraint as my father chooses to 
govern by, nevertheless pretends not to envy you 
your freedom and independence. 

Latimer, I will tell you no lies. I wish my father 
would allow me a little more exercise of my free 
will, were it but that 1 might feel the pleasure of 
doing what would please him of my own accord. 
A little more spare time, and a little more money 
to enjoy it, would, besides, neither misbecome my 
age nor my condition ; and it is, | own, provoking 
to see so many in the same situation winging the 
air at freedom, while I sit here, caged up like a 
cobbler’s linnet, to chant the same unvaried lesson 
from sunrise to sunset, not to mention the listening 
to so many lectures against idleness, as if I enjoyed 
or was making use of the means of amusement! 
But then I cannot at heart blame either the motive 
or the object of this severity. For the motive, it 


REDGAUNTLET. 19 


is and can only be my father’s anxious, devoted, 
and unremitting affection and zeal for my improve- 
ment, with a laudable sense of the honour of the 
profession to which he has trained me. 

As we have no near relations, the tie betwixt us 
is of even unusual closeness, though in itself one of 
the strongest which nature can form. Iam, and have 
all along been, the exclusive object of my father’s 
anxious hopes, and his still more anxious and 
engrossing fears ; so what title have I to complain, 
although now and then these fears and hopes lead 
him to take a troublesome and incessant charge of 
all my motions? Besides, I ought to recollect, and, 
Darsie, I do recollect, that my father, upon various 
important occasions, has shown that he can be 
indulgent as well as strict. The leaving his old 
apartments in the Luckenbooths was to him like 
divorcing the soul from the body; yet Dr. R 
did but hint that the better air of this new district 
was more favourable to my health, as I was then 
suffering under the penalties of too rapid a growth, 
when he exchanged his old and beloved quarters, 
adjacent to the very Heart of Mid-Lothian, for one 
of those new tenements [entire within themselves] 
which modern taste has so lately introduced. — 
Instance also the inestimable favour which he con- 
ferred on me by receiving you into his house, when 
you had only the unpleasant alternative of remain- 
ing, though a grown-up lad, in the society of mere 
boys. This was a thing so contrary to all my 





1 The diminutive and obscure place called Brown’s Square, was 
hailed about the time of its erection as an extremely elegant 
improvement upon the style of designing and erecting Edinburgh 
residences. Each house was, in the phrase used by appraisers, 
“finished within itself,” or, in the still newer phraseology, “ self- 
contained.” It was built about the year 1763-4; and the old part 


20 REDGAUNTLET. 


father’s ideas of seclusion, of economy, and of the 
safety to my morals and industry, which he wished 
to attain, by preserving me from the society of other 
young people, that, upon my word, I am always 
rather astonished how I should have had the impu- 
dence to make the request, than that he should 
have complied with it. 

Then for the object of his solicitude — Do not 
laugh, or hold up your hands, my good Darsie; but 
upon my word I like the profession to which I am 
in the course of being educated, and am serious in 
prosecuting the preliminary studies. The law is my 
vocation — in an especial, and, I may say, in an here- 
ditary way, my vocation; for although I have not 
the honour to belong to any of the great families 
who form in Scotland, as in France, the noblesse of 
the robe, and with us, at least, carry their heads as 
high, or rather higher, than the noblesse of the sword, 
—for the former consist more frequently of the 
“first-born of Egypt,” — yet my grandfather, who, I 
dare say, was a most excellent person, had the hon- 
our to sign a bitter protest against the Union, in the 
respectable character of town-clerk to the ancient 
Borough of Birlthegroat; and there is some reason 
—shall I say to hope, or to suspect ?— that he may 
have been a natural son of a first cousin of the 
then Fairford of that Ilk, who had been long num- 
bered among the minor barons. Now my father 
mounted a step higher on the ladder of legal promo- 
, tion, being, as you know as well as I do, an eminent 
and respected Writer to his Majesty’s Signet; and 
I myself am destined to mount a round higher still, 
of the city being near and accessible, this square soon received 


many inhabitants, who ventured to remove to so moderate a dis- 
tance from the High Street. 


REDGAUNTLET. 21 


and wear the honoured robe which is sometimes 
supposed, like Charity, to cover a multitude of sins. 
I have, therefore, no choice but to climb upwards, 
since we have mounted thus high, or else to fall 
down at the imminent risk of my neck. So that I 
reconcile myself to my destiny ; and while you are 
looking from mountain peaks at distant lakes and 
friths, I am, de apicibus juris, consoling myself with 
visions of crimson and scarlet gowns — with the 
appendages of handsome cowls, well lined with 
salary. 

You smile, Darsie, more two, and seem to say it is 
little worth while to cozen one’s self with such vul- 
gar dreams: yours being, on the contrary, of a high 
and heroic character, bearing the same resemblance 
to mine, that a bench, covered with purple cloth, and 
plentifully loaded with session papers, does to some 
Gothic throne, rough with Barbaric pearl and gold. 
But what would you have?—Sua quemque trahit 
voluptas. And my visions of preferment, though 
they may be as unsubstantial at present, are never- 
theless more capable of being realized, than your 
aspirations after the Lord knows what. What says 
my father’s proverb? “ Look to a gown of gold, and 
you will at least get a sleeve of it.” Such is my 
pursuit; but what dost thou look to? The chance 
that the mystery, as you call it, which at present 
overclouds your birth and connexions, will clear up 
into something inexpressibly and inconceivably 
brilliant; and this without any effort or exertion of 
your own, but purely by the good-will of Fortune. 
I know the pride and naughtiness of thy heart, and 
sincerely do I wish that thou hadst more beatings 
to thank me for, than those which thou dost acknow- 
ledge so gratefully. Then had I thumped these 


22 REDGAUNTLET. 


Quixotical expectations out of thee, and thou hadst 
not, as now, conceived thyself to be the hero of some 
romantic history, and converted, in thy vain imagin- 
ation, honest Griffiths, citizen and broker, who never 
bestows more than the needful upon his quarterly 
epistles, into some wise Alcander or sage Alquife, 
the mystical and magical protector of thy peerless 
destiny. But I know not how it was, thy skull got 
harder, I think, and my knuckles became softer; 
not to mention that at length thou didst begin to 
show about thee a spark of something dangerous, 
which I was bound to respect at least, if I did not 
fear it. 

And while I speak of this, it is not much amiss 
to advise thee to correct a little this cock-a-hoop 
courage of thine. I fear much that, like a_hot- 
mettled horse, it will carry the owner into some 
scrape, out of which he will find it difficult to 
extricate himself, especially if the daring spirit 
which bore thee thither should chance to fail thee 
at a pinch. Remember, Darsie, thou art not natur- 
ally courageous; on the contrary, we have long 
since agreed, that, quiet as I am, I have the advan- 
tage in this important particular. My courage 
consists, I think, in strength of nerves and consti- 
tutional indifference to danger; which, though it 
never pushes me on adventure, secures me in full 
use of my recollection, and tolerably complete self- 
possession, when danger actually arrives. Now, — 
thine seems more what may be called intellectual 
courage; highness of spirit, and desire of distinc- 
tion; impulses which render thee alive to the love of 
fame, and deaf to the apprehension of danger, until 
it forces itself suddenly upon thee. I own that 
whether it is from my having caught my father’s 


REDGAUNTLET. 23 


apprehensions, or that I have reason to entertain 
doubts of my own, I often think that this wildfire 
chase, of romantic situation and adventure, may 
lead thee into some mischief; and then what would 
become of Alan Fairford? They might make whom 
they pleased Lord-Advocate, or Solicitor-General, 
I should never have the heart to strive for it. All 
my exertions are intended to vindicate myself one 
day in your eyes; and [ think I should not care a 
farthing for the embroidered silk gown, more than 
for an old woman’s apron, unless I had hopes that 
thou shouldst be walking the boards to admire, and 
perhaps to envy me. 

That this may be the case, I prithee — beware! 
_ See not a Dulcinea in every slipshod girl, who, 

with blue eyes, fair hair, a tattered plaid, and a 
willow-wand in her gripe, drives out the village 
cows to the loaning. Do not think you will meet 
a gallant Valentine in every English rider, or an 
Orson in every Highland drover. View things as 
they are, and not as they may be magnified through 
thy teeming fancy. I have seen thee look at an 
old gravel pit, till thou madest out capes, and bays, 
and inlets, crags, and precipices, and the whole stu- 
pendous scenery of the isle of Feroe, in what was 
to all ordinary eyes a mere horsepond. Besides, did 
I not once find thee gazing with respect at a lizard, 
in the attitude of one who looks upon a crocodile ? 
Now this is, doubtless, so far a harmless exercise 
of your imagination, for the puddle cannot drown 
you, nor the Lilliputian alligator eat you up. But 
it is different in society, where you cannot mistake 
the character of those you converse with, or suffer 
your fancy to exaggerate their qualities, good or 
bad, without exposing yourself not only to ridicule, 


24 REDGAUNTLET. 


but to great and serious inconveniencies. Keep 
guard, therefore, on your imagination, my dear 
Darsie; and let your old friend assure you, it is 
the point of your character most pregnant with 
peril to its good and generous owner. Adieu! let 
not the franks of the worthy peer remain unem- 
ployed; above all, Sis memor met. 

A. F. 


LETTER III. 
“DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD. 


Shepherd’s Bush. 


I HAVE received thine absurd and most conceited 
epistle. It is well for thee that, Lovelace and Bel- 
ford like, we came under a convention to pardon 
every species of liberty which we may take with © 
each other; since, upon my word, there are some 
reflections in your last, which would otherwise 
have obliged me to return forthwith to Edinburgh, 
merely to show you I was not what you took me 
for. 

Why, what a pair of prigs hast thou made of us! 
—I plunging into scrapes, without having courage 
to get out of them —thy sagacious self, afraid to 
put one foot before the other, lest it should run 
away from its companion; and so standing still hke 
a post, out of mere faintness and coldness of heart, 
while all the world were driving full speed past 
thee. Thou a portrait-painter !—TI tell thee, Alan, 
I have seen a better seated on the fourth round of 
a ladder, and painting a bare-breeched Highlander, 
holding a pint-stoup as big as himself, and a booted 
Lowlander, in a bobwig, supporting a glass of like 
dimensions; the whole being designed to represent 
the sign of the Salutation. 

How hadst thou the heart to represent thine own 
individual self, with all thy motions, ike those of 


26 REDGAUNTLET. 


a great Dutch doll, depending on the pressure of 
certain springs, as duty, reflection, and the lke; 
without the impulse of which, thou wouldst doubt- 
less have me believe thou wouldst not budge an inch ? 
But have I not seen Gravity out of his bed at mid- 
night? and must I, in plain terms, remind thee of 
certain mad pranks? Thou hadst ever, with the 
gravest sentiments in thy mouth, and the most 
starched reserve in thy manner, a kind of lumber- 
ing proclivity towards mischief, although with more 
inclination to set it a-going, than address to carry 
it through; and I cannot but chuckle internally, 
when I think of having seen my most venerable 
monitor, the future President of some high Scottish 
Court, puffing, blowing, and floundering, like a 
clumsy cart-horse in a bog, where his efforts to extri- 
cate himself only plunged him deeper at every 
awkward struggle, till some one —I myself, for 
example — took compassion on the moaning monster, 
and dragged him out by mane and tail. 

As for me, my portrait is, if possible, even more 
scandalously caricatured. J fail or quail in spirit 
at the upcome! Where canst thou show me the 
least symptom of the recreant temper with which 
thou hast invested me, (as I trust,) merely to set 
off the solid and impassible dignity of thine own 
stupid indifference? If you ever saw me tremble, 
be assured that my flesh, like that of the old Span- 
ish general, only quaked at the dangers into which 
my spirit was about to lead it. Seriously, Alan, 
this imputed poverty of spirit is a shabby charge 
to bring against your friend. I have examined 
myself as closely as I can, being, in very truth, a 
little hurt at your having such hard thoughts of me, 
and on my life I can see no reason for them. I 


REDGAUNTLET. 27 


allow you have, perhaps, some advantage of me in 
the steadiness and indifference of your temper; but 
I should despise myself, if I were conscious of the 
deficiency in courage which you seem willing enough 
to impute to me. However, I suppose this ungra- 
cious hint proceeds from sincere anxiety for my 
safety ; and so viewing it, I swallow it as I would 
do medicine from a friendly doctor, although I 
believed in my heart he had mistaken my complaint. 

This offensive insinuation disposed of, I thank 
thee, Alan, for the rest of thy epistle. I thought I 
heard your good father pronouncing the word Noble- 
House, with a mixture of contempt and displeasure, 
as if the very name of the poor little hamlet were 
odious to him, or, as if you had selected, out of all 
Scotland, the very place at which you had no call to 
dine. But if he had had any particular aversion 
to that blameless village, and very sorry inn, is it 
not his own fault that I did not accept the invita- 
tion of the Laird of Glengallacher, to shoot a buck 
in what he emphatically calls his “country?” Truth 
is, I had a strong desire to have complied with his 
Lairdship’s invitation. To shoot a buck! Think 
how magnificent an idea to one who never shot any 
thing but hedge-sparrows, and that with a horse- 
pistol, purchased at a broker’s stand in the Cowgate ! 
— You, who stand upon your courage, may remem- 
ber that I took the risk of firing the said pistol for 
the first time, while you stood at twenty yards’ 
distance; and that, when you were persuaded it 
would go off without bursting, forgetting all law 
but that of the biggest and strongest, you possessed 
yourself of it exclusively for the rest of the holydays. 
Such a day’s sport was no complete introduction to 
the noble art of deer-stalking, as it is practised in 


28 REDGAUNTLET. 


the Highlands; but I should not have scrupled to 
accept honest Glengallacher’s invitation, at the risk 
of firing a rifle for the first time, had it not been for 
the outcry which your father made at my proposal, 
in the full ardour of his zeal for King George, the 
Hanover succession, and the Presbyterian faith. I 
wish I had stood out, since I have gained so little 
upon his good opinion by submission. All his 
impressions concerning the Highlanders are taken 
from the recollections of the Forty-five, when he 
retreated from the West-Port with his brother vol- 
unteers, each to the fortalice of his own separate 
dwelling, so soon as they heard the Adventurer 
was arrived with his clans as near them as Kirk- 
liston. The flight of Falkirk —parma non bene 
selecta (k) —in which I think your sire had his 
share with the undaunted western regiment, does 
not seem to have improved his taste for the company 
of the Highlanders ; (quere, Alan, dost thou derive 
the courage thou makest such boast of from an 
hereditary source ?) —and stories of Rob Roy Mac- 
eregor, and Sergeant Alan Mhor Cameron,! have 
served to paint them in still more sable colours to 
his imagination. 

Now, from all I can understand, these ideas, as 
applied to the present state of the country, are 
absolutely chimerical. The Pretender is no more 
remembered in the Highlands, than if the poor 
gentleman were gathered to his hundred and eight 
fathers, whose portraits adorn the ancient walls of 
Holyrood; the broadswords have passed into other 
hands; the targets are used to cover the butter- 

1 Of Rob Roy we have had more than enough. Alan Cameron, 


commonly called Sergeant Mhor, a freebooter of the same period, 
was equally remarkable for strength, courage, and generosity. 


REDGAUNTLET. 29 


churns; and the race has sunk, or is fast sinking, 
from ruffling bullies into tame cheaters. Indeed, 
it was partly my conviction that there is little to be 
seen in the north, which, arriving at your father’s 
conclusion, though from different premises, inclined 
my course in this direction, where perhaps I shall 
see as little. 

One thing, however, I have seen; and it was with 
pleasure the more indescribable, that I was debarred 
from treading the land which my eyes were per- 
mitted to gaze upon, like those of the dying prophet 
from the top of Mount Pisgah, —I have seen, in a 
word, the fruitful shores of merry England; merry 
England! of which I boast myself a native, and on 
which I gaze, even while raging floods and unstable 
quicksands divide us, with the filial affection of a 
dutiful son. 

Thou canst not have forgotten, Alan — for when 
didst thou ever forget what was interesting to thy 
friend?— that the same letter from my friend 
Griffiths, which doubled my income, and placed my 
motions at my own free disposal, contained a pro- 
hibitory clause, by which, reason none assigned, I 
was interdicted, as I respected my present safety 
and future fortunes, from visiting England; every 
other part of the British dominions, and a tour, if 
I pleased, on the continent, being left to my own 
choice. — Where is the tale, Alan, of a covered dish 
in the midst of a royal banquet, upon which the 
eyes of every guest were immediately fixed, neglect- 
ing all the dainties with which the table was loaded ? 
This clause of banishment from England — from 
my native country —from the land of the brave, 
and the wise, and the free — affects me more than 
I am rejoiced by the freedom and independence 


30 REDGAUNTLET. 


assigned to me in all other respects. Thus, in seek- 
ing this extreme boundary of the country which I 
am forbidden to tread, I resemble the poor tethered 
horse, which, you may have observed, is always 
erazing on the very verge of the circle to which if 
is limited by its halter. 

Do not accuse me of romance for obeying this 
impulse towards the South; nor suppose that, to 
gratify the imaginary longing of an idle curiosity, 
I am in any danger of risking the solid comforts 
of my present condition. Whoever has hitherto 
taken charge of my motions, has shown me, by con- 
vincing proofs, more weighty than the assurances 
which they have withheld, that my real advantage 
is their principal object. I should be, therefore, 
worse than a fool did I object to their authority, 
even when it seems somewhat capriciously exercised ; 
for assuredly, at my age, I might —intrusted as I 
am with the care and management of myself in 
every other particular — expect that the cause. of 
excluding me from England should be frankly and 
fairly stated for my own consideration and guidance. 
However, I will not grumble about the matter. I 
shall know the whole story one day, I suppose; and 
perhaps, as you sometimes surmise, I shall not find 
there is any mighty matter in it after all. 

Yet one cannot help wondering — but, plague on 
it, if I wonder any longer, my letter will be as full 
of wonders as one of Katterfelto’s advertisements. 
I have a month’s mind, instead of this damnable 
iteration of guesses and forebodings, to give thee 
the history of a little adventure which befell me 
yesterday; though I am sure you will, as usual, 
turn the opposite end of the spy-glass on my poor 
narrative, and reduce, more two, to the most petty 


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a) rane * s 


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MRE oe 


Doawhys:. yd-bsdgise—1 Hy ogc 





On. the Nitb. 
Drawn by James Orrock, R.I.— Etched by J. Fullwood. 


aa ee 





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The Library 
of the 
University of {Hinols. 


REDGAUNTLET. 31 


trivialities, the circumstances to which thou accus- 
est me of giving undue consequence. Hang thee, 
Alan, thou art as unfit a confidant for a youthful 
gallant with some spice of imagination, as the 
old taciturn secretary of Facardin of Trebizond. 
Nevertheless, we must each perform our separate 
destinies. I am doomed to see, act, and tell: — 
thou, like a Dutchman, enclosed in the same 
Diligence with a Gascon, to hear, and shrug thy 
shoulders. 

Of Dumfries, the capital town of this county, I 
have but little to say, and will not abuse your 
patience by reminding you, that it is built on the 
gallant river Nith, and that its churchyard, the 
highest place of the whole town, commands an 
extensive and fine prospect. Neither will I take 
the traveller's privilege of inflicting upon you the 
whole history of Bruce poniarding the Red Comyn 
in the Church of the Dominicans at this place, and 
becoming a king and patriot, because he had been 
a church-breaker and a murderer. The present 
Dumfriezers remember and justify the deed, observ- 
ing, it was only a papist church —in evidence 
whereof, its walls have been so completely demol- 
ished, that no vestiges of them remain. They are a 
sturdy set of true-blue Presbyterians, these burghers 
of Dumfries; men after your father’s own heart, 
zealous for the Protestant succession —the rather 
that many of the great families around are suspected 
to be of a different way of thinking, and shared, a 
great many of them, in the insurrection of the 
Fifteen, and some in the more recent business of 
the Forty-five. The town itself suffered in the latter 
era; for Lord Elcho, with a large party of the rebels, 
levied a severe contribution upon Dumfries, on 


32 REDGAUNTLET. 


account of the citizens having annoyed the rear of 
the Chevalier during his march into England. (/) 

Many of these particulars I learned from Provost 
C , who, happening to see me in the market- 
place, remembered that I was an intimate of your 
father’s, and very kindly asked me to dinner. Pray 
tell your father that the effects of his kindness 
to me follow me every where. I became tired, 
however, of this pretty town in the course of 
twenty-four hours, and crept along the coast east- 
wards, amusing myself with looking out for objects 
of antiquity, and sometimes making, or attempting to 
make, use of my new angling-rod. By the way, old 
Cotton’s instructions, by which I hoped to qualify 
myself for one of the gentle society of anglers, are 
not worth a farthing for this meridian. I learned 
this by mere accident, after I had waited four mor- 
tal hours. I shall never forget an impudent urchin, 
a cowherd, about twelve years old, without either 
brogue or bonnet, barelegged, and with a very indif- 
ferent pair of breeches — how the villain grinned 
in scorn at my landing-net, my plummet, and the 
gorgeous jury of flies (m) which I had assembled to 
destroy all the fish in the river. I was induced at 
last to lend the rod to the sneering scoundrel, to 
see what he would make of it; and he not only half 
filled my basket in an hour, but literally taught me 
to kill two trouts with my own hand. This, and 
Sam having found the hay and oats, not forgetting 
the ale, very good at this small inn, first made me 
take the fancy of resting here for a day or two; and 
I have got my grinning blackeuard of a Piscator 
leave to attend on me, by paying sixpence a-day for 
a herdboy in his stead. 

A notably clean Englishwoman keeps this small 





REDGAUNTLET. 33 


house, and my bedroom is sweetened with lav- 
ender, has a clean sash-window, and the walls are, 
moreover, adorned with ballads of Fair Rosamond 
and Cruel Barbara Allan. The woman’s accent, 
though uncouth enough, sounds yet kindly in my 
ear; for I have never yet forgotten the desolate 
effect produced on my infant organs, when I heard 
on all sides your slow and broad northern pronun- 
ciation, which was to me the tone of a foreign land. 
Tam sensible I myself have since that time acquired 
Scotch in perfection, and many a Scotticism withal. 
Still the sound of the English accentuation comes 
to my ears as the tones of a friend; and even when 
heard from the mouth of some wandering beggar, 
it has seldom failed to charm forth my mite. You 
Scotch, who are so proud of your own nationality, 
must make due allowance for that of other folks, 

On the next morning I was about’ to set forth to 
the stream where I had commenced angler the 
night before, but was prevented, by a heavy shower 
of rain, from stirring abroad the whole forenoon; 
during all which time I heard my varlet of a guide 
as loud with his blackguard jokes in the kitchen, 
as a footman in the shilling gallery ;— so little are 
modesty and innocence the inseparable companions 
of rusticity and seclusion. 

When after dinner the day cleared, and we at 
length sallied out to the river side, I found myself 
subjected to a new trick on the part of my accom- 
plished preceptor. Apparently, he liked fishing 
himself better than the trouble of instructing an 
awkward novice, such asI; and in hopes of exhaust- 
ing my patience, and inducing me to resign the rod, 
as I had done on the preceding day, my friend 
contrived to keep me thrashing the water more than 

VOL. I.—3 


34 REDGAUNTLET. 


an hour with a pointless hook. I detected this trick 
at last, by observing the rogue grinning with delight 
when he saw a large trout rise and dash harmless 
away from the angle. I gave him a sound cuff, 
Alan; but the next moment was sorry, and, to 
make amends, yielded possession of the fishing-rod 
for the rest of the evening, he undertaking to bring 
me home a dish of trouts for my supper, in atone- 
ment for his offences. 

Having thus got honourably rid of the trouble of 
amusing myself in a way I cared not for, I turned 
my steps towards the sea, or rather the Solway 
Frith, which here separates the two sister king- 
doms, and which lay at about a mile’s distance, by 
a pleasant walk over sandy knolls, covered with 
short herbage, which you call Links, and we 
English, Downs. 

But the rest of my adventure would weary out 
my fingers, and must be deferred until to-morrow, 
when you shall hear from me by way of continua- 
tion; and, in the meanwhile, to prevent overhasty 
conclusions, I must just hint to you, we are but yet 
on the verge of the adventure which it is my pur- 
pose to communicate. 


LETTER IV. 
THE SAME TO THE SAME. 


Shepherd’s Bush. 

I MENTIONED in my last, that having abandoned 
my fishing-rod as an unprofitable implement, I 
crossed over the open downs which divided me from 
the margin of the Solway. WhenI reached the 
banks of the great estuary, which are here very bare 
and exposed, the waters had receded from the large 
and level space of sand, through which a stream, 
now feeble and fordable, found its way to the ocean. 
The whole was illuminated by the beams of the low 
and setting sun, who showed his ruddy front, like 
a warrior prepared for defence, over a huge battle- 
mented and turreted wall of crimson and black 
clouds, which appeared like an immense Gothic for- 
tress, into which the lord of day was descending. 
His setting rays glimmered bright upon the wet 
surface of the sands, and the numberless pools of 
water by which it was covered, where the inequality 
of the ground: had occasioned their being left by 
the tide. 

The scene was animated by the exertions of a 
number of horsemen, who were actually employed 
in hunting salmon. Ay, Alan, lift up your hands 
and eyes as you will, I can give their mode of fish- 
ing no name so appropriate; for they chased the 
fish at full gallop, and struck them with their barbed 
Spears, as you see hunters spearing boars in the 


36 REDGAUNTLET. 


old tapestry. The salmon, to be sure, take the 
thing more quietly than the boars; but they are so 
swift in their own element, that to pursue and strike 
them is the task of a good horseman, with a quick 
eye, a determined hand, and full command both of 
his horse and weapon. The shouts of the fellows 
as they galloped up and down in the animating 
exercise — their loud bursts of laughter when any of 
their number caught a fall —and still louder accla- 
mations when any of the party made a capital stroke 
with his lance —gave so much animation to the 
whole scene, that I caught the enthusiasm of the 
sport, and ventured forward a considerable space on 
the sands. The feats of one horseman, in particu- 
lar, called forth so repeatedly the clamorous applause 
of his companions, that the very banks rang again 
with their shouts. He was a tall man, well mounted 
on a strong black horse, which he caused to turn 
and wind like a bird in the air, carried a longer 
spear than the others, and wore a sort of fur cap or 
bonnet, with a short feather in it, which gave him 
on the whole rather a superior appearance to the 
other fishermen. He seemed to hold some sort of 
authority among them, and occasionally directed 
their motions both by voice and hand; at which 
times I thought his gestures were striking, and his 
voice uncommonly sonorous and commanding. 

The riders began to make for the shore, and the 
interest of the scene was almost over, while I lin- 
gered on the sands, with my looks turned to the 
shores of England, still gilded by the sun’s last rays, 
and, as it seemed, scarce distant a mile from me. 
The anxious thoughts which haunt me began to 
muster in my bosom, and my feet slowly and insen- 
sibly approached the river which divided me from 


REDGAUNTLET, 37 


the forbidden precincts, though without any formed 
intention, when my steps were arrested by the sound 
of a horse galloping; and as I turned, the rider (the 
same fisherman whom I had formerly distinguished) 
called out to me, in an abrupt manner, “Soho, 
brother! you are too late for Bowness to-night — 
the tide will make presently.” 

I turned my head and looked at him without 
answering; for, to my thinking, his sudden appear- 
ance (or rather, I should say, his unexpected 
approach) had, amidst the gathering shadows and 
lingering light, something in it which was wild and 
ominous. 

“ Are you deaf?” he added —“ or are you mad ? 
—or have you a mind for the next world ?” 

“T am a stranger,’ I answered, “and had no 
other purpose than looking on at the fishing — I am 
about to return to the side I came from.” 

“Best make haste then,” said he. “He that 
dreams on the bed of the Solway, may wake in the 
next world. The sky threatens a blast that will 
bring in the waves three feet a-breast.” 

So saying, he turned his horse and rode off, while 
I began to walk back towards the Scottish shore, a 
little alarmed at what I had heard; for the tide 
advances with such rapidity upon these fatal sands, 
that well-mounted horsemen lay aside hopes of 
safety, if they see its white surge advancing while 
they are yet at a distance from the bank. 

These recollections grew more agitating, and, 
instead of walking deliberately, I began a race as 
fast as I could, feeling, or thinking I felt, each pool 
of salt water through which I splashed, grow deeper 
and deeper. At length the surface of the sand did 
seem considerably more intersected with pools and 


38 REDGAUNTLET. 


channels full of water —either that the tide was 
really beginning to influence the bed of the estuary, 
or, as I must own is equally probable, that I had, 
in the hurry and confusion of my retreat, involved 
myself in difficulties which I had avoided in my 
more deliberate advance. Either way, it was rather 
an unpromising state of affairs, for the sands at the 
same time turned softer, and my footsteps, so soon 
as I had passed, were instantly filled with water. 
I began to have odd recollections concerning the 
snugness of your father’s parlour, and the secure 
footing afforded by the pavement of Brown’s Square 
and Scot’s close, when my better genius, the tall 
fisherman, appeared once more close to my side, he 
and his sable horse looming gigantic in the now 
darkening twilight. 

«Are you mad?” he said, in the same deep tone 
which had before thrilled on my ear, “or are you 
weary of your life ?—— You will be presently amongst 
the quicksands.” —I professed my ignorance of the 
way, to which he only replied, ‘There is no time 
for prating — get up behind me.” 

He probably expected me to spring from the 
eround with the activity which these Borderers 
have, by constant practice, acquired in every thing 
relating to horsemanship ; but as I stood irresolute, 
he extended his hand, and grasping mine, bid me 
place my foot on the toe of his boot, and thus raised 
me in a trice to the croupe of his horse. I was scarce 
securely seated, ere he shook the reins of his horse, 
who instantly sprung forward; but annoyed, doubt- 
less, by the unusual burden, treated us to two or 
three bounds, accompanied by as many flourishes 
of his hind heels. The rider sat like a tower, not- 
withstanding that the unexpected plunging of the 


a ue barista es hes mnie vd bataisd © 





Sunset — Solway Firth. 
Painted by Sam Bough. — Etched by D. Y. Cameron. 


























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REDGAUNTLET. 39 


animal threw me forward upon him. The horse 
was soon compelled to submit to the discipline of 
the spur and bridle, and went off at a steady hand 
gallop; thus shortening the devious, for it was by 
no means a direct path, by which the rider, avoid- 
ing the loose quicksands, made for the northern 
bank. 

My friend, perhaps I may call him my preserver, 
— for, to a stranger, my situation was fraught with 
real danger, —continued to press on at the same 
speedy pace, but in perfect silence, and I was 
under too much anxiety of mind to‘disturb him with 
any questions. At length we arrived at a part of 
the shore with which I was utterly unacquainted, 
when I alighted and began to return, in the best 
fashion I could, my thanks for the important service 
which he had just rendered me. 

The stranger only replied. by an impatient 
“pshaw !” and was about. to: ride off, and leave me 
to my own resources, when I implored him to 
complete his work of kindness, by directing me to 
Shepherd’s Bush, which was, as I informed him, my 
home for the present. 

“To Shepherd’s Bush?” he said; “it is but 
three miles, but if you know not the land better 
than the sand, you may break your neck before you 
get there; for it is no road fora moping boy in a 
dark night ; and, besides, there are the brook and the 
fens to cross.” 

I was a little dismayed at this communication of 
such difficulties as my habits have not called on me 
to contend with. Once more the idea of thy father’s 
fireside came across me; and I could have been 
well contented to have swop’d the romance of my 
situation, together with the glorious independence 


4o REDGAUNTLET. 


of control which I possessed at the moment, for the 
comforts of the chimney-corner, though I were 
obliged to keep my eyes chained to Erskine’s Larger 
Institutes. 

I asked my new friend whether he could not 
direct me to any house of public entertainment for 
the night; and, supposing it probable he was him- 
self a poor man, I added, with the conscious dignity 
of a well-filled pocketbook, that I could make 
it worth any man’s while to oblige me. The fisher- 
man making no answer, I turned away from him 
with as gallant an appearance of indifference as I 
could command, and began to take, as I thought, the 
path which he had pointed out to me. 

His deep voice immediately sounded after me to 
recall me. “Stay, young man, stay — you have 
mistaken the road already. —I wonder your friends 
send out such an inconsiderate youth, without some 
one wiser than himself to take care of him.” 

“Perhaps they might not have done so,” said 
I, “if I had any friends who cared about the 
matter.” 

“Well, sir,” he said, “it is not my custom to 
open my house to strangers, but your pinch is like 
to be a smart one; for, besides the risk from bad 
roads, fords, and broken ground, and the night, 
which looks both black and gloomy, there is bad 
company on the road sometimes — at least it has a 
bad name, and some have come to harm; so that 
I think I must for once make my rule give way to 
your necessity, and give you a night’s lodging in my 
cottage.” 

Why was it, Alan, that I could not help giving 
an involuntary shudder at receiving an invitation 
so seasonable in itself, and so suitable to my natu- 


REDGAUNTLET. 41 


rally inquisitive disposition? I easily suppressed 
this untimely sensation; and, as I returned thanks, 
and expressed my hope that I should not disarrange 
his family, I once more dropped a hint of my desire 
to make compensation for any trouble I might 
occasion. The man answered very coldly, “ Your 
presence will no doubt give me trouble, sir, but it 
is of a kind which your purse cannot compensate ; 
in a word, although I am content to receive you as 
my guest, I am no publican to call a reckoning.” 

I begged his pardon, and, at his instance, once 
more seated myself behind him upon the good 
horse, which went forth steady as before — the moon, 
whenever she could penetrate the clouds, throwing 
the huge shadow of the animal, with its double 
burden, on the wild and bare ground over which we 
passed. 

Thou mayst laugh till thou lettest the letter fall 
if thou wilt, but it reminded me of the Magician 
Atlantes on his hippogriff, with a knight trussed up 
behind him, in the manner Ariosto has depicted 
that matter. Thou art, I know, matter-of-fact 
enough to affect contempt of that fascinating and 
delicious poem; but think not that, to conform with 
thy bad taste, I shall forbear any suitable illustra- 
tion which now or hereafter may occur to me. 

On we went, the sky blackening around us, and 
the wind beginning to pipe such a wild and melan- 
choly tune as best suited the hollow sounds of the 
advancing tide, which I could hear at a distance, 
like the roar of some immense monster defrauded of 
its prey. 

At length, our course was crossed by a deep dell 
or dingle, such as they call in some parts of Scot- 
land a den, and in others a cleuch, or narrow glen. 


42 REDGAUNTLET. 


It seemed, by the broken glances which the moon 
continued to throw upon it, to be steep, precipitous, 
and full of trees, which are, generally speaking, 
rather scarce upon these shores. The descent by 
which we plunged into this dell was both steep and 
rugged, with two or three abrupt turnings; but 
neither danger nor darkness impeded the motion 
of the black horse, who seemed rather to slide upon 
his haunches, than to gallop down the pass, throw- 
ing me again on the shoulders of the athletic rider, 
who, sustaining no inconvenience by the circum- 
stance, continued to press the horse forward with 
his heel, steadily supporting him at the same time 
by raising his bridle-hand, until we stood in safety 
at the bottom of the steep—not a little to my 
consolation, as, friend Alan, thou mayst easily 
conceive. 

A very short advance up the glen, the bottom 
of which we had attained by this ugly descent, 
brought us in front of two or three cottages, one 
of which another blink of moonshine enabled me 
to rate as rather better than those of the Scottish 
peasantry in this part of the world; for the sashes 
seemed glazed, and there were what are called 
storm-windows in the roof, giving symptoms of 
the magnificence of a second story. The scene 
around was very interesting; for the cottages, and 
the yards or crofts annexed to them, occupied a 
haugh, or holm, of two acres, which a brook of some 
consequence (to judge from its roar) had left upon 
one side of the little glen while finding its course 
close to the further bank, and which appeared to 
be covered and darkened with trees, while the 
level space beneath enjoyed such stormy smiles 
as the moon had that night to bestow. 


REDGAUNTLET. 43 


I had little time for observation, for my com- 
panion’s loud whistle, seconded by an equally loud 
halloo, speedily brought to the door of the principal 
cottage a man and a woman, together with two 
large Newfoundland dogs, the deep baying of which 
I had for some time heard. A yelping terrier 
or two, which had joined the concert, were silent 
at the presence of my conductor, and began to 
whine, jump up, and fawn upon him. The female 
drew back when she beheld a stranger; the man, 
who had a lighted lantern, advanced, and without 
any observation, received the horse from my host, 
and led him, doubtless, to stable, while I followed 
my conductor into the house. When we had passed 
the hallan,! we entered a well-sized apartment, with 
a clean brick floor, where a fire blazed (much to 
my contentment) in the ordinary projecting sort 
of chimney, common in Scottish houses. There 
were stone seats within the chimney; and ordinary 
utensils, mixed with fishing-spears, nets, and similar 
implements of sport, were hung around the walls of 
the place. The female who had first appeared at 
the door, had now retreated into a side apartment. 
She was presently followed by my guide, after he 
had silently motioned me to a seat; and their place 
was supplied by an elderly woman, in a grey stuff 
gown, with a check apron and toy, obviously a 
menial, though neater in her dress than is usual in 
her apparent rank—an advantage which was counter- 
balanced by a very forbidding aspect. But the most 
singular part of her attire, in this very Protestant 
country, was a rosary, in which the smaller beads 
were black oak, and those indicating the pater- 
noster of silver, with a crucifix of the same metal. 

1 The partition which divides a Scottish cottage. 


44 REDGAUNTLHET. 


This person made preparations for supper, by 
spreading a clean though coarse cloth over. a large 
oaken table, placing trenchers and salt upon it, and 
arranging the fire to receive a gridiron. I observed 
her motions in silence; for she took no_ sort 
of notice of me, and as her looks were singularly 
forbidding, I felt no disposition to commence 
conversation. 

When this duenna had made all preliminary 
arrangements, she took from the well-filled pouch of 
my conductor, which he had hung up by the door, 
one or two salmon, or grilses, as the smaller sort 
are termed, and selecting that which seemed best, 
and in highest season, began to cut it into slices, 
and to prepare a grillade; the savoury smell of 
which affected me so powerfully, that I began sin- 
cerely to hope that no delay would intervene 
between the platter and the lip. 

As this thought came across me, the man who 
had conducted the horse to the stable entered the 
apartment, and discovered to me a countenance yet 
more uninviting than that of the old crone who was 
performing with such dexterity the office of cook to 
the party. He was perhaps sixty years old; yet 
his brow was not much furrowed, and his jet black 
hair was only grizzled, not whitened, by the advance 
of age. All his motions spoke strength unabated ; 
and, though rather undersized, he had very broad 
shoulders, was square-made, thin-flanked, and appar- 
ently combined in his frame muscular strength and 
activity; the last somewhat impaired perhaps by 
years, but the first remaining in full vigour. A 
hard and harsh countenance — eyes far sunk under 
projecting eyebrows, which were grizzled like his hair 
—a wide mouth, furnished from ear to ear with a 


REDGAUNTLET. 45 


range of unimpaired teeth, of uncommon whiteness, 
and a size and breadth which might have become 
the jaws of an ogre, completed this delightful por- 
trait. He was clad like a fisherman, in jacket and 
trowsers of the blue cloth commonly used by sea- 
men, and had a Dutch case-knife, like that of a 
Hamburgh skipper, stuck into a broad buff belt, 
which seemed as if it might occasionally sustain 
weapons of a description still less equivocally 
calculated for violence. 

This man gave me an inquisitive, and, as [ 
thought, a sinister look, upon entering the apart- 
ment; but without any farther notice of me, took 
up the office of arranging the table, which the old 
lady had abandoned for that of cooking the fish, 
and, with more address than I expected from a per- 
son of his coarse appearance, placed two chairs at 
the head of the table, and two stools below; accom- 
modating each seat to a cover, beside which he 
placed an allowance of barley-bread, and a small 
jug, which he replenished with ale from a large 
black jack. Three of these jugs were of ordinary 
earthenware, but the fourth, which he placed by 
the right-hand cover at the upper end of the table, 
was a flagon of silver, and displayed armorial bear- 
ings. Beside this flagon he placed a saltcellar 
of silver, handsomely wrought, containing salt of 
exquisite whiteness, with pepper and other spices. 
A sliced lemon was also presented on a small sil- 
ver salver. The two large water-dogs, who seemed 
perfectly to understand the nature of the prepara- 
tions, seated themselves one on each side of the 
table, to be ready to receive their portion of the 
entertainment. I never saw finer animals, or which 
seemed to be more influenced by a sense of decorum, 


46 REDGAUNTLET. 


excepting that they slobbered a little as the rich 
scent from the chimney was wafted past their noses. 
The small dogs ensconced themselves beneath the 
table. 

I am aware that I am dwelling upon trivial and 
ordinary circumstances, and that perhaps I may 
weary out your patience in doing so. But conceive 
me alone in this strange place, which seemed, from 
the universal silence, to be the very temple of Har- 
pocrates — remember that this is my first excursion 
from home — forget not that the manner in which 
I had been brought hither had the dignity of dan- 
ger and something the air of an adventure, and that 
there was a mysterious incongruity in all I had 
hitherto witnessed; and you will not, I think, be 
surprised that these circumstances, though trifling, 
should force themselves on my notice at the time, 
and dwell in my memory afterwards. 

That a fisher, who pursued the sport perhaps for 
his amusement as well as profit, should be well 
mounted and better lodged than the lower class of 
peasantry, had in it nothing surprising; but there 
was something about all that I saw which seemed 
to intimate, that I was rather in the abode of a 
decayed gentleman, who clung to a few of the forms 
and observances of former rank, than in that of a 
common peasant, raised above his fellows by 
comparative opulence. 

Besides the articles of plate which I have already 
noticed, the old man now lighted and placed on 
the table a silver lamp, or cruise, as the Scottish 
term it, filled with very pure oil, which in burning 
diffused an aromatic fragrance, and gave me a more 
perfect view of the cottage walls, which I had 
hitherto only seen dimly by the light of the fire. The 


REDGAUNTLET. a7 


bink,} with its usual arrangement of pewter and 
earthen-ware, which was most strictly and critically 
clean, glanced back the flame of the lamp merrily 
from one side of the apartment. In a recess, formed 
by the small bow of a latticed window, was a large 
writing-desk of walnut-tree wood, curiously carved, 
above which arose shelves of the same, which sup- 
ported a few books and papers. The opposite side 
of the recess contained (as far as I could discern, 
for it lay in shadow, and I could at any rate have 
seen it but imperfectly from the place where I was 
seated) one or two guns, together with swords, pis- 
tols, and other arms — a collection which, in a poor 
cottage, and in a country so peaceful, appeared 
singular at least, if not even somewhat suspicious. 

All these observations, you may suppose, were 
made much sooner than I have recorded, or you 
(if you have not skipped) have been able to read 
them. They were already finished, and I was con- 
sidering how I should open some communication 
with the mute inhabitants of the mansion, when my 
conductor re-entered from the side-door by which 
he had made his exit. 

He had now thrown off his rough riding-cap, and 
his coarse jockey-coat, and stood before me in a grey 
jerkin trimmed with black, which sat close to, and 
set off, his large and sinewy frame, and a pair of 
trowsers of a lighter colour, cut as close to the body 
as they are used by Highlandmen. His whole dress 
was of finer cloth than that of the old man; and his 
linen, so minute was my observation, clean and 
unsullied. His shirt was without ruffles, and tied 
at the collar with a black riband, which showed his 


1 The frame of wooden shelves placed in a Scottish kitchen for 
holding plates. 


48 REDGAUNTLET. 


strong and muscular neck rising from it, like that 
of an ancient Hercules. His head was small, with 
a large forehead, and well-formed ears. He wore 
neither peruke nor hair-powder; and his chestnut 
locks, curling close to his head, like those of an 
antique statue, showed not the least touch of time, 
though the owner must have been at least fifty. 
His features were high and prominent in such a 
degree, that one knew not whether to term them 
harsh or handsome. In either case, the sparkling 
grey eye, aquiline nose, and well-formed mouth, 
combined to render his physiognomy noble and 
expressive. An air of sadness, or severity, or of 
both, seemed to indicate a melancholy, and, at the 
same time, a haughty temper. I could not help 
running mentally over the ancient heroes, to whom 
I might assimilate the noble form and countenance 
before me. He was too young, and evinced too 
little resignation to his fate, to resemble Belisarius. 
Coriolanus, standing by the hearth of Tullus Aufi- 
dius, came nearer the mark; yet the gloomy 
and haughty look of the stranger had, perhaps, 
still more of Marius, seated among the ruins of 
Carthage. 

While I was lost in these imaginations, my host 
stood by the fire, gazing on me with the same atten- 
tion which I paid to him, until, embarrassed by his 
look, I was about to break silence at all hazards. 
But the supper, now placed upon the table, reminded 
me, by its appearance, of those wants which I had 
almost forgotten while I was gazing on the fine form 
of my conductor. He spoke at length, and I almost 
started at the deep rich tone of his voice, though 
what he said was but to invite me to sit down to 
the table. He himself assumed the seat of honour, 


REDGAUNTLET. 49 


beside which the silver flagon was placed, and 
beckoned to me to sit beside him. 

Thou knowest thy father’s strict and excellent 
domestic discipline has trained me to hear the invo- 
cation of a blessing before we break the daily bread, 
for which we are taught to pray—HI paused a 
moment, and, without designing to do so, I suppose 
my manner made him sensible of what I expected. 
The two domestics, or inferiors, as I should have 
before observed, were already seated at the bottom 
of the table, when my host shot a glance of a very 
peculiar expression towards the old man, observing, 
with something approaching to a sneer, “ Cristal 
Nixon, say grace — the gentleman expects one.” 

“The foul fiend shall be clerk, and say amen, 
when I turn chaplain,” growled out the party 
addressed, in tones which might have become the 
condition of a dying bear; “if the gentleman is a 
whig, he may please himself with his own mum- 
mery. My faith is neither in word nor writ, but 
in barley bread and brown ale.” 

“Mabel Moffat,’ said my guide, looking at the 
old woman, and raising his sonorous voice, probably 
because she was hard of hearing, “canst thou ask 
a blessing upon our victuals ?” 

The old woman shook her head, kissed the cross 
which hung from her rosary, and was silent. 

“Mabel will say grace for no heretic,” said the 
master of the house, with the same latent sneer on 
his brow and in his accent. 

At the same moment, the side-door already men- 
tioned opened, and the young woman (so she proved) 
whom I had first seen at the door of the cottage, 
advanced a little way into the room, then stopped 
bashfully, as if she had observed that I was looking 


VOL, I.—4 


50 REDGAUNTLET, 


at her, and asked the master of the house, “if he 
had called ?” 

“Not louder than to make old Mabel hear me,” 
he replied; “and yet,’ he added, as she turned to 
retire, “it is a shame a stranger should see a house 
where not one of the family can or will say a grace, 
— do thou be our chaplain.” 

The girl, who was really pretty, came forward 
with timid modesty, and apparently unconscious 
that she was doing any thing uncommon, pro- 
nounced the benediction in a silver-toned voice, and 
with affecting simplicity — her cheek colouring just 
so much as to show, that, on a less solemn occasion, 
she would have felt more embarrassed. 

Now, if thou expectest a fine description of this 
young woman, Alan Fairford, in order to entitle 
thee to taunt me with having found a Dulcinea in 
the inhabitant of a fisherman’s cottage on the Sol- 
way Frith, thou shalt be disappointed ; for, having 
said she seemed very pretty, and that she was a 
sweet and gentle-speaking creature, I have said all 
concerning her that I can tell thee. She vanished 
when the benediction was spoken. 

My host, with a muttered remark on the cold of 
our ride, and the keen air of the Solway Sands, to 
which he did not seem to wish an answer, loaded 
my plate from Mabel’s grillade, which, with a large 
wooden bowl of potatoes, formed our whole meal. 
A sprinkling from the lemon gave a much higher 
zest than the usual condiment of vinegar; and I 
promise you that whatever I might hitherto have 
felt, either of curiosity or suspicion, did not prevent 
me from making a most excellent supper, during 
which little passed betwixt me and my entertainer, 
unless that he did the usual honours of the table 


REDGAUNTLET. 51 


with courtesy, indeed, but without even the affec- 
tation of hearty hospitality, which those in his 
(apparent) condition generally affect on such occa- 
sions, even when they do not actually feel it. On 
the contrary, his manner seemed that of a polished 
landlord towards an unexpected and unwelcome 
cuest, whom, for the sake of his own credit, he 
receives with civility, but without either good-will 
or cheerfulness. | 

If you ask how I learned all this, I cannot tell 
you; nor, were I to write down at length the insig- 
nificant intercourse which took place between us, 
would it perhaps serve to justify these observations. 
It is sufficient to say, that in helping his dogs, 
which he did from time to time with great liber- 
ality, he seemed to discharge a duty much more 
pleasing to himself, than when he paid the same 
attention to his guest. Upon the whole, the result 
on my mind was as [I tell it you. 

When supper was over, a small case-bottle of 
brandy, in a curious frame of silver filigree, circu- 
lated to the guests. I had already taken a small 
glass of the liquor, and, when it had passed to 
Mabel and to Cristal, and was again returned to the 
upper end of the table, I could not help taking the 
bottle in my hand, to look more at the armorial 
bearings, which were chased with considerable taste 
on the silver framework. Encountering the eye 
of my entertainer, I instantly saw that my curiosity 
was highly distasteful ; he frowned, bit his lip, and 
showed such uncontrollable signs of impatience, 
that, setting the bottle immediately down, I 
attempted some apology. To this he did not deign 
either to reply, or even to listen; and Cristal, at a 
signal from his master, removed the object of my 


52 REDGAUNTLET. 


curiosity, as well as the cup, upon which the same 
arms were engraved. 

There ensued an awkward pause, which I endea- 
voured to break by observing, that “I feared my 
intrusion upon his hospitality had put his family 
to some inconvenience.” 

“YT hope you see no appearance of it, sir,” he 
replied, with cold civility. ‘What inconvenience a 
family so retired as ours may suffer from receiving 
an unexpected guest, is like to be trifling, in com- 
parison of what the visitor himself sustains from 
want of his accustomed comforts. So far, there- 
fore, aS our connexion stands, our accounts stand 
clear.” 

Notwithstanding this discouraging reply, I blun- 
dered on, as is usual in such cases, wishing to 
appear civil, and being, perhaps, in reality the very 
reverse. “I was afraid,’ I said, “that my presence 
had banished one of the family” (looking at the 
side-door) “ from his table.” 

“Tf,” he coldly replied, “I meant the young 
woman whom I had seen in the apartment, he bid 
me observe that there was room enough at the 
table for her to have seated herself, and meat enough, 
such as it was, for her supper. I might, therefore, 
be assured, if she had chosen it, she would have 
supped with us.” 

There was no dwelling on this or any other topic 
longer; for my entertainer, taking up the lamp, 
Observed, that “my wet clothes might reconcile me 
for the night to their custom of keeping early hours ; 
that he was under the necessity of going abroad by 
peep of day to-morrow morning, and would call me 
up at the same time, to point out the way by which 
I was to return to the Shepherd’s Bush.” 


REDGAUNTLET. 53 


This left no opening for farther explanation; nor 
was there room for it on the usual terms of civility ; 
for,as he neither asked my name, nor expressed 
the least interest concerning my condition, I — the 
obliged person —had no pretence to trouble him 
with such enquiries on my part. 

He took up the lamp, and led me through the 
side-door into a very small room, where a bed had 
been hastily arranged for my accommodation, and, 
putting down the lamp, directed me to leave my 
wet clothes on the outside of the door, that they 
might be exposed to the fire during the night. He 
then left me, having muttered something which was 
meant to pass for good-night. 

I obeyed his directions with respect to my clothes, 
the rather that, in despite of the spirits which I had 
drank, I felt my teeth begin to chatter, and received 
various hints from an aguish feeling, that a town- 
bred youth, like myself, could not at once rush into 
all the hardihood of country sports with impunity. 
But my bed, though coarse and hard, was dry and 
clean; and I soon was so little occupied with my 
heats and tremors, as to listen with interest to a 
heavy foot which seemed to be that of my land- 
lord, traversing the boards (there was no ceiling, 
as you may believe) which roofed my apartment. 
Light glancing through these rude planks, became 
visible as soon as my lamp was extinguished ; and 
as the noise of the slow, solemn, and regular step 
continued, and I could distinguish that the person 
turned and returned as he reached the end of the 
apartment, it seemed clear to me that the walker 
was engaged in no domestic occupation, but merely 
pacing to and fro for his own pleasure. “An odd 
amusement this,” I thought, “ for one who had been 


54 REDGAUNTLET. 


engaged at least a part of the preceding day in vio- 
lent exercise, and who talked of rising by the peep 
of dawn on the ensuing morning.” 

Meantime I heard the storm, which had been 
brewing during the evening, begin to descend with 
a vengeance; sounds, as of distant thunder, (the 
noise of the more distant waves, doubtless, on the 
shore,) mingled with the roaring of the neighbour- 
ing torrent, and with the crashing, groaning, and 
even screaming of the trees in the glen, whose 
boughs were tormented by the gale. Within the 
house, windows clattered, and doors clapped, and 
the walls, though sufficiently substantial for a 
building of the kind, seemed to me to totter in the 
tempest. 

But still the heavy steps perambulating the apart- 
ment over my head, were distinctly heard amid the 
roar and fury of the elements. I thought more than 
once I even heard a groan; but I frankly own, that, 
placed in this unusual situation, my fancy may 
have misled me. I was tempted several times to 
call aloud, and ask whether the turmoil around us 
did not threaten danger to the building which we 
inhabited; but when I thought of the secluded and 
unsocial master of the dwelling, who seemed to 
avoid human society, and to remain unperturbed 
amid the elemental war, it seemed that to speak to 
him at that moment, would have been to address 
the spirit of the tempest himself, since no other 
being, I thought, could have remained calm and 
tranquil while winds and waters were thus raging 
around. 

In process of time, fatigue prevailed over anxiety 
and curiosity. The storm abated, or my senses 
became deadened to its terrors, and I fell asleep ere 


REDGAUNTLET. 55 


yet the mysterious paces of my host had ceased to 
shake the flooring over my head. 

It might have been expected that the novelty 
of my situation, although it did not prevent my 
slumbers, would have at least diminished their 
profoundness, and shortened their duration. It 
proved otherwise, however ; for I never slept more 
soundly in my life, and only awoke when, at morn- 
ing dawn, my landlord shook me by the shoulder, 
and dispelled some dream, of which, fortunately for 
you, I have no recollection, otherwise you would 
have been favoured with it, in hopes you might 
have proved a second Daniel upon the occasion. 

“You sleep sound” —said his full deep voice; 
“ere five years have rolled over your head, your 
slumbers will be ighter — unless ere then you are 
wrapped in the sleep which is never broken.” 

“How!” said I, starting up in the bed; “do you 
know any thing of me —of my prospects — of my 
views in life?” 

“Nothing,” he answered, with a grim smile; 
“but it is evident you are entering upon the world 
young, inexperienced, and full of hopes, and I do 
but prophesy to you what I would to any one in 
your condition. — But come; there lie your clothes 
—a brown crust and a draught of milk wait you, 
if you choose to break your fast; but you must 
make haste.” 

“TI must first,’ I said, “take the freedom to 
spend a few minutes alone, before beginning the 
ordinary works of the day.” 

“Oh!—humph!—I cry your devotions par- 
don,” he replied, and left the apartment. 

Alan, there is something terrible about this man. 

I joined him, as I had promised, in the kitchen 


56 REDGAUNTLET. 


where we had supped over night, where I found 
the articles which he had offered me for breakfast, 
without butter or any other addition. 

He walked up and down while I partook of the 
bread and milk; and the slow measured weighty 
step seemed identified with those which I had heard 
last night. His pace, from its funereal slowness, 
seemed to keep time with some current of internal 
passion, dark, slow, and unchanged. —“ We run and 
leap by the side of a lively and bubbling brook,” 
thought I, internally, “as if we would run a race 
with it; but beside waters deep, slow, and lonely, 
our pace is sullen and silent as their course. What 
thoughts may be now corresponding with that fur- 
rowed brow, and bearing time with that heavy 
step !” 

“Tf you have finished,” said he, looking up to me 
with a glance of impatience, as he observed that I 
ate no longer, but remained with my eyes fixed 
upon him, “I wait to show you the way.” 

We went out together, no individual of the family 
having been visible excepting my landlord. I was 
disappointed of the opportunity which I watched 
for of giving some gratuity to the domestics, as they 
seemed to be. As for offering any recompense to 
the Master of the Household, it seemed to me 
impossible to have attempted it. 

What would I have given for a share of thy com- 
posure, who wouldst have thrust half-a-crown into 
a man’s hand whose necessities seemed to crave it, 
conscious that you did right in making the proffer, 
and not caring sixpence whether you hurt the feel- 
ings of him whom you meant to serve! I saw thee 
once give a penny to a man with a long beard, who, 
from the dignity of his exterior, might have repre- 


REDGAUNTLET. 57 


sented Solon. I had not thy courage, and therefore 
I made no tender to my mysterious host, although, 
notwithstanding his display of silver utensils, all 
around the house bespoke narrow circumstances, if 
not actual poverty. 

We left the place together. But I hear thee 
murmur thy very new and appropriate ejaculation, 
Ohe, jam satis !— The rest for another time. Per- 
haps I may delay farther communication till I learn 
how my favours are valued. 


LETTER V. 
ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER. 


I HAVE thy two last epistles, my dear Darsie, and, 
expecting the third, have been in no hurry to answer 
them. Do not think my silence ought to be ascribed 
to my failing to take interest in them, for, truly, they 
excel (though the task was difficult) thy usual excel- 
lings. Since the moon-calf who earliest discovered 
the Pandemonium of Milton in an expiring wood- 
fire —since the first ingenious urchin who blew 
bubbles out of soap and water, thou, my best of 
friends, hast the highest knack at making histories 
out of nothing. Wert thou to plant the bean in the 
nursery-tale, thou wouldst make out, so soon as it 
began to germinate, that the castle of the giant was 
about to elevate its battlements on the top of it. 
All that happens to thee gets a touch of the wonder- 
ful and the sublime from thy own rich imagination. 
Didst ever see what artists call a Claude Lorraine 
glass, which spreads its own particular hue over 
the whole landscape which you see through it ?— 
thou beholdest ordinary events just through such a 
medium. 

I have looked carefully at the facts of thy last 
long letter, and they are just such as might have 
befallen any little truant of the High School, who 
had got down to Leith Sands, gone beyond the 
prawn-dub, wet his hose and shoon, and, finally, 


REDGAUNTLET. 59 


had been carried home, In compassion, by some 
high-kilted fishwife, cursing all the while the 
trouble which the brat occasioned her. 

I admire the figure which thou must have made, 
clinging for dear life behind the old fellow’s back — 
thy jaws chattering with fear, thy muscles cramped 
with anxiety. Thy execrable supper of broiled 
salmon, which was enough to insure the night- 
mare’s regular visits for a twelvemonth, may be 
termed a real affliction; but as for the storm of 
Thursday last, (such, I observe, was the date,) it 
roared, whistled, howled, and bellowed, as fearfully 
amongst the old chimney-heads in the Candlemaker- 
row, as it could on the Solway shore, for the very 
wind of it — deste me per totam noctem vigilante. 
And then in the morning again, when — Lord help 
you —in your sentimental delicacy you bid the poor 
man adieu, without even tendering him half-a-crown 
for supper and lodging! 

You laugh at me for giving a penny (to be accu- 
rate, though, thou shouldst have said sixpence) to an 
old fellow, whom thou, in thy high flight, wouldst 
have sent home supperless, because he was like 
Solon or Belisarius. But you forget that the affront 
descended like a benediction into the pouch of the 
old gaberlunzie, who overflowed in blessings upon 
the generous donor — Long ere he would have 
thanked thee, Darsie, for thy barren veneration of 
his beard and his bearing. Then you laugh at my 
good father’s retreat from Falkirk, just as if it were 
not time for a man to trudge when three or four 
mountain knaves, with naked claymores, and heels 
as light as their fingers, were scampering after him, 
crying furimish. You remember what he said him- 
self when the Laird of Bucklivat told him that 


60 REDGAUNTLET. 


furinish signified “stay a while.” -“ What the 
devil,” he said, surprised out of his Presbyterian 
correctness by the unreasonableness of such a 
request under the circumstances, “would the 
scoundrels have had me stop to have my head 
cut off?” | 

Imagine such a train at your own heels, Darsie, 
and ask yourself whether you would not exert your 
legs as fast as you did in flying from the Solway 
tide. And yet you impeach my father’s courage! I 
tell you he has courage enough to do what is right, 
and to spurn what is wrong — courage enough to 
defend a righteous cause with hand and purse, and 
to take the part of the poor man against his 
oppressor, without fear of the consequences to him- 
self. This is civil courage, Darsie; and it is of little 
consequence to most men in this age and country, 
whether they ever possess military courage or no. 

Do not think I am angry with you, though I 
thus attempt to rectify your opinions on my 
father’s account. I am well aware that, upon the 
whole, he is scarce regarded with more respect by 
me than by thee. And while I am in a serious 
humour, which it is difficult to preserve with one 
who is perpetually tempting me to laugh at him, 
pray, dearest Darsie, let not thy ardour for adven- 
ture carry thee into more such scrapes as that of 
the Solway Sands. The rest of the story is a mere 
imagination ; but that stormy evening might have 
proved, as the clown says to Lear, a “naughty night 
to swim in.” 

As for the rest, if you can work mysterious and 
romantic heroes out of old crossgrained fishermen, 
why, I for one will reap some amusement by 
the metamorphosis. Yet hold! even there, there 


REDGAUNTLET. 61 


is some need of caution. This same female chap- 
lain—thou sayest so little of her, and so much 
of every one else, that it excites some doubt in my 
mind. Very pretty she is, it seems—and that is 
all thy discretion informs me of. There are cases 
in which silence implies other things than consent. 
Wert thou ashamed or afraid, Darsie, to trust thy- 
self with the praises of the very pretty grace-sayer ? 
— As I live, thou blushest! Why, do I not know 
thee an inveterate Squire of Dames? and have I 
not been in thy confidence? An elegant elbow, 
displayed when the rest of the figure was mufiled 
in a cardinal, or a neat well-turned ankle and instep, 
seen by chance as its owner tripped up the Old 
Assembly Close,! turned thy brain for eight days. 
Thou wert once caught, if I remember rightly, with 
a single glance of a single matchless eye, which, 
when the fair owner withdrew her veil, proved to 
be single in the literal sense of the word. And, 
besides, were you not another time enamoured of 
a voice—a mere voice, that mingled in the 
psalmody at the Old Greyfriars’ Church — until 
you discovered the proprietor of that dulcet organ 
to be Miss Dolly MaclIzzard, who is both “back 
and breast,” as our saying goes ? 

All these things considered, and contrasted with 
thy artful silence on the subject of this grace-saying 
Nereid of thine, I must beg thee to be more explicit 
upon that subject in thy next, unless thou wouldst 
have me form the conclusion that thou thinkest 
more of her than thou carest to talk of. 

You will not expect much news from this 
quarter, as you know the monotony of my life, 


1 Of old this almost deserted alley formed the most common 
access betwixt the High Street and the southern suburbs. 


62 REDGAUNTLET. 


and are aware it must at present be devoted to 
uninterrupted study. You have said a thousand 
times, that I am only qualified to make my way 
by dint of plodding, and therefore plod I must. 

My father seems to be more impatient of your 
absence than he was after your first departure. He 
is sensible, I believe, that our solitary meals want 
the light which your gay humour was wont to throw 
over them, and feels melancholy, as men do when 
the light of the sun is no longer upon the landscape. 
If it is thus with him, thou mayst imagine it is 
much more so with me, and canst conceive how 
heartily I wish that thy frolic were ended, and 
thou once more our inmate. 


I resume my pen, after a few hours’ interval, to 
say that an incident has occurred, on which you 
will yourself be building a hundred castles in the 
air, and which even I, jealous as I am of such 
baseless fabrics, cannot but own affords ground 
for singular conjecture. 

My father has of late taken me frequently along 
with him when he attends the Courts, in his anxiety 
to see me properly initiated into the practical forms 
of business. I own I feel something on his account 
and my own from this over-anxiety, which, I dare 
say, renders us both ridiculous. But what signifies 
my repugnance! my father drags me up to his 
counsel learned in the law,—“Are you quite 
ready to come on to-day, Mr. Crossbite ?— This 
is my son, designed for the bar —I take the liberty 
to bring him with me to-day to the consultation, 
merely that he may see how these things are 
managed.” 

Mr. Crossbite smiles and bows, as a lawyer smiles 


REDGAUNTLET. 63 


on the solicitor who employs him, and I dare say, 
thrusts his tongue into his cheek, and whispers 
into the first great wig that passes him, “What 
the d—1 does old Fairford mean by letting loose 
his whelp on me?” 

As I stood beside them, too much vexed at the 
childish part Iwas made to play to derive much infor- 
mation from the valuable arguments of Mr. Crossbite, 
I observed a rather elderly man, who stood with his 
eyes firmly bent on my father, as if he only waited 
an end of the business in which he was engaged, 
to address him. There was something, I thought, 
in the gentleman’s appearance, which commanded 
attention. Yet his dress was not in the present 
taste, and though it had once been magnificent, 
was now antiquated and unfashionable. His coat 
was of branched velvet, with a satin lining, a 
waistcoat of violet-coloured silk, much embroid- 
ered; his breeches the same stuff as the coat. He 
wore square-toed shoes, with foretops, as they are 
called ; and his silk stockings were rolled up over his 
knee, as you may have seen in pictures, and here 
and there on some of those originals who seem to 
pique themselves on dressing after the mode of 
Methuselah. <A chapeau bras and sword neces- 
sarily completed his equipment, which, though 
out of date, showed that it belonged to a man of 
distinction. 

The instant Mr. Crossbite had ended what he had 
to say, this gentleman walked up to my father, with, 
“ Your servant, Mr. Fairford — it is long since you 
and I met.” 

My father, whose politeness, you know, is exact 
and formal, bowed, and hemmed, and was confused, 
and at length professed that the distance since they 


64 REDGAUNTLET. 


had met was so great, that though he remembered 
the face perfectly, the name, he was sorry to say, 
had — really — somehow — escaped his memory. 

“Have you forgot Herries of Birrenswork?” 
said the gentleman, and my father bowed even more 
profoundly than before ; though I think his recep- 
tion of his old friend seemed to lose some of the 
respectful civility which he bestowed on him while 
his name was yet unknown. It now seemed to be 
something hke the lip-courtesy which the heart 
would have denied had ceremony permitted. 

My father, however, again bowed low, and hoped 
he saw him well. 

“So well, my good Mr. Fairford, that I come 
hither determined to renew my acquaintance with 
one or two old friends, and with you in the first 
place.—I halt at my old resting-place — you must 
dine with me to-day at Paterson’s, at the head of 
the Horse Wynd —it is near your new fashionable 
dwelling, and I have business with you.” 

My father excused himself respectfully, and 
not without embarrassment — “ he was particularly 
engaged at home.” | 

“Then I will dine with you, man,” said Mr. 
Herries of Birrenswork; “the few minutes you 
can spare me after dinner will suffice for my busi- 
ness; and I will not prevent you a moment from 
minding your own —I am no bottle-man.” 

You have often remarked that my father, though 
a scrupulous observer of the rites of hospitality, 
seems to exercise them rather as a duty than as a 
pleasure; indeed, but for a conscientious wish to 
feed the hungry and receive the stranger, his doors 
would open to guests much seldomer than is the 
case. I never saw so strong an example of this 


REDGAUNTLET. 65 


peculiarity, (which I should otherwise have said is 
caricatured in your description,) as in his mode of 
homologating the self-given invitation of Mr. Herries. 
The embarrassed brow, and the attempt at a smile 
which accompanied his, “We will expect the hon- 
our of seeing you in Brown Square at three o’clock,” 
could not deceive any one, and did not impose upon 
the old Laird. It was with a look of scorn that he 
replied, “‘I will relieve you then till that hour, Mr. 
Fairford;” and his whole manner seemed to say, 
“It is my pleasure to dine with you, and I care 
not whether I am welcome or no.” 

When he turned away, I asked my father who 
he was. 

“ An unfortunate gentleman,” was the reply. 

“ He looks pretty well on his misfortunes,” replied 
I. “I should not have suspected that so gay an 
outside was lacking a dinner.” 

“Who told you that he does ?” replied my father; 
“he is omnt suspicione major, so far as worldly cir- 
cumstances are concerned —It is to be hoped he 
makes a good use of them; though, if he does, it 
will be for the first time in his life.” 

“He has then been an irregular liver ?” insinu- 
ated I. 

My father replied by that famous brocard with 
which he silences all unacceptable queries, turning 
in the slightest degree upon the failings of our 
neighbours,— “If we mend our own faults, Alan, 
we shall all of us have enough to do, without sit- 
ting in judgment upon other folks.” 

Here I was again at fault; but rallying once 
more, I observed, he had the air of a man of high 
rank and family. 

“He is well entitled,” said my father, “repre- 

VOL. I.—5 


66 REDGAUNTLET. 


senting Herries of Birrenswork; a branch of that 
ereat and once powerful family of Herries, the elder 
branch whereof merged in the house of Nithesdale 
at the death of Lord Robin the Philosopher, Anno 
Domini sixteen hundred and sixty-seven.” 

“Has he still,” said I, “his patrimonial estate 
of Birrenswork ?” 
~ “No,” replied my father; “so far back as his 
father’s time, it was a mere designation — the prop- 
erty being forfeited by Herbert Herries following his 
kinsman the Earl of Derwentwater, to the Preston 
affair in 1715. But they keep up the designation, 
thinking, doubtless, that their claims may be revived 
in more favourable times for Jacobites and for 
Popery; and folks who in no way partake of their 
fantastic capriccios, do yet allow it to pass unchal- 
lenged, ex comitate, if not ex misericordia. — But 
were he the Pope and the Pretender both, we must 
get some dinner ready for him, since he has thought 
fit to offer himself. So hasten home, my lad, and 
tell Hannah, Cook Epps, and James Wilkinson, to 
do their best; and do thou look out a pint or two 
of Maxwell’s best — it is in the fifth bin — there are 
the keys of the wine-cellar.— Do not leave them 
in the lock — you know poor James’s failing, though 
he is an honest creature under all other temptations 
—and I have but two bottles of the old brandy left 
—we must keep it for medicine, Alan.” 

Away went I—made my preparations — the 
hour of dinner came, and so did Mr. Herries of 
Birrenswork. 

If | had thy power of imagination and descrip- 
tion, Darsie, I could make out a fine, dark, mysterious, 
Rembrandt-looking portrait of this same stranger, 
which should be as far superior to thy fisherman, 


REDGAUNTLET. 67 


asa shirt of chain-mail is to a herring-net. I can 
assure you there is some matter for description 
about him; but knowing my own imperfections, I 
ean only say, I thought him eminently disagreeable 
and ill-bred. — No, «ll-bred is not the proper word ; 
on the contrary, he appeared to know the rules of 
good-breeding perfectly, and-only to think that the 
rank of the company did not require that he should 
attend to them—a view of the matter infinitely 
more offensive than if his behaviour had been that 
of uneducated and proper rudeness. While my 
father said grace, the Laird did all but whistle 
aloud; and when I, at my father’s desire, returned 
thanks, he used his toothpick, as if he had waited 
that moment for its exercise. 

So much for Kirk —with King, matters went 
even worse. My father, thou knowest, is particu- 
larly full of deference to his guests; and in the 
present case, he seemed more than usually desirous 
to escape every cause of dispute. He so far com- 
promised his loyalty, as to announce merely “The 
King,” as hfs first toast after dinner, instead of the 
emphatic “King George,’ which is his usual for- 
mula. Our guest made a motion with his glass, so 
as to pass it over the water-decanter which stood 
beside him, and added, “ Over the water.”(n) 

My father coloured, but would not seem to hear 
this. Much more there was of careless and disre- 
spectful in the stranger’s manner and tone of 
conversation ; so that though I know my father’s 
prejudices in favour of rank and birth, and though I 
am aware his otherwise masculine understanding has 
never entirely shaken off the slavish awe of the 
great, which in his earlier days they had so many 
modes of commanding, still I could hardly excuse 


68 REDGAUNTLET. 


him for enduring so much insolence — such it 
seemed to be —as this self-invited guest was dis- 
posed to offer to him at his own table. 

One can endure a traveller in the same carriage, 
if he treads upon your toes by accident, or even 
through negligence; but it is very different when, 
knowing that they are rather of a tender descrip- 
tion, he continues to pound away at them with his 
hoofs. In my poor opinion—and Iam a man of 
peace — you can, in that case, hardly avoid a decla- 
ration of war. 

I believe my father read my thoughts in my eye ; 
for, pulling out his watch, he said, “Half past-four, 
Alan — you should be in your own room by this 
time — Birrenswork will excuse you.” 

Our visitor nodded carelessly, and I had no 
longer any pretence to remain. But as I left the 
room I heard this Magnate of Nithesdale distinctly 
mention the name of Latimer. I lingered; but at 
length a direct hint from my father obliged me 
to withdraw; and when, an hour afterwards, I was 
summoned to partake of a cup of tea, our guest had 
departed. He had business that evening in the 
High Street, and could not spare time even to drink 
tea. I could not help saying, I considered his 
departure as a relief from incivility. “ What busi- 
ness has he to upbraid us,” I said, “with the change 
of our dwelling from a more inconvenient to a better 
quarter of the town? What was it to him if we 
chose to imitate some of the conveniences or luxuries 
of an English dwelling-house, instead of living piled 
up above each other in flats? Have his patrician 
birth and aristocratic fortunes given him any right 
to censure those who dispose of the fruits of their 
own industry, according to their own pleasure ?” 


REDGAUNTLET. 69 


My father took a long pinch of snuff, and replied, 
“Very well, Alan; very well indeed. I wish Mr. 
Crossbite or Counsellor Pest had heard you; they 
must have acknowledged that you have a talent for 
forensic elocution ; and it may not be amiss to try 
a little declamation at home now and then, to gather 
audacity and keep yourself in breath. But touch- 
ing the subject of this paraffle of words, it’s not 
worth a pinch of tobacco. D’ye think that I care 
for Mr. Herries of Birrenswork more than any other 
gentleman who comes here about business, although 
I do not care to go tilting at his throat, because he 
speaks like a grey goose as he is? But to say no 
more about him, I want to have Darsie Latimer’s 
present direction; for it is possible I may have to 
write the lad a line with my own hand—and yet 
I do not well know — but give me the direction 
at all events.” 

I did so, and if you have heard from my father 
accordingly, you know more, probably, about the 
subject of this letter than I who write it. But if 
you have not, then shall I have discharged a friend’s 
duty, in letting you know that there certainly is 
something afloat between this disagreeable Laird 
and my father, in which you are considerably 
interested. 

Adieu! and although I have given thee a sub- 
ject for waking dreams, beware of building a castle 
too heavy for the foundation; which, in the pre- 
sent instance, is barely the word Latimer occurring 
in a conversation betwixt a gentleman of Dumfries- 
shire and a W.S. of Edinburgh — Cetera prorsus 
4gnoro. 


LETTER VIL. 
DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD. 
[In continuation of Letters III. and IV.] 


I TouD thee I walked out into the open air with 
my grave and stern landlord. I could now see more 
perfectly than on the preceding night the secluded 
glen, in which stood the two or three cottages which 
appeared to be the abode of him and his family. 

It was so narrow, in proportion to its depth, that 
no ray of the morning sun was likely to reach it 
till it should rise high in the horizon. Looking up 
the dell, you saw a brawling brook issuing in foamy 
haste from a covert of underwood, like a racehorse 
impatient to arrive at the goal; and, if you gazed 
yet more earnestly, you might observe part of a 
high waterfall glimmering through the foliage, 
and giving occasion, doubtless, to the precipitate 
speed of the brook. Lower down, the stream became 
more placid, and opened into a quiet piece of 
water, which afforded a rude haven to two or three 
fishermen’s boats, then lying high and dry on the 
sand, the tide being out. Two or three miserable 
huts could be seen beside this little haven, inhabited 
probably by the owners of the boats, but inferior in 
every respect to the establishment of mine host, 
though that was miserable enough. 

I had but a minute or two to make these observa- 
tions, yet during that space my companion showed 


REDGAUNTLET. 71 


symptoms of impatience, and more than once 
shouted, “ Cristal Cristal Nixon,’ until the old 
man of the preceding evening appeared at the door 
of one of the neighbouring cottages or outhouses, 
leading the strong black horse which I before 
commemorated, ready bridled and saddled. My 
conductor made Cristal a sign with his finger, and, 
turning from the cottage door, led the way up the 
steep path or ravine which connected the seques- 
tered dell with the open country. 

Had I been perfectly aware of the character of 
the road down which I had been hurried with so 
much impetuosity on the preceding evening, I 
greatly question if I should have ventured the 
descent; for it deserved no better name than the 
channel of a torrent, now in a good measure filled 
with water that dashed in foam and fury into the 
dell, being swelled with the rains of the preceding 
night. J ascended this ugly path with some diffi- 
culty, although on foot, and felt dizzy when I 
observed, from such traces as the rains had not 
obliterated, that the horse seemed almost to have 
shd down it upon his haunches the evening before. 

My host threw himself on his horse’s back, with- 
out placing a foot in the stirrup — passed me in the 
perilous ascent, against which he pressed his steed 
as if the animal had had the footing of a wild cat. 
The water and mud splashed from his heels in his 
reckless course, and a few bounds placed him on the 
top of the bank, where I presently joined him, and 
found the horse and rider standing still as a statue ; 
the former panting and expanding his broad nos- 
trils to the morning wind, the latter motionless, 
with his eye fixed on the first beams of the rising 
sun, which already began to peer above the eastern 





72 REDGAUNTLET. 


horizon, and gild the distant mountains of Cumber- 
land and Liddesdale. 

He seemed in a reverie, from which he started 
at my approach, and putting his horse in motion, 
led the way at a leisurely pace, through a broken 
and sandy road, which traversed a waste, level, 
and uncultivated tract of downs, intermixed with 
morass, much like that in the neighbourhood of my 
quarters at Shepherd’s Bush. Indeed the whole 
open ground of this district, where it approaches 
the sea, has, except in a few favoured spots, the 
same uniform and dreary character. 

Advancing about a hundred yards from the brink 
of the glen, we gained a still more extensive com- 
mand of this desolate prospect, which seemed even 
more dreary, as contrasted with the opposite shores 
of Cumberland, crossed and intersected by ten thou- 
sand lines of trees growing in hedge-rows, shaded 
with groves and woods of considerable extent, and 
animated by hamlets and villas, from which thin 
clouds of smoke already gave sign of human life 
and human industry. 

My conductor had extended his arm, and was 
pointing the road to Shepherd’s Bush, when the 
step of a horse was heard approaching us. He 
looked sharply around, and having observed who 
was approaching, proceeded in his instructions to 
me, planting himself at the same time in the very 
middle of the path, which, at the place where we 
halted, had a slough on the one side, and a sand- 
bank on the other. 

I observed that the rider who approached us 
slackened his horse’s pace from a slow trot to a 
walk, as if desirous to suffer us to proceed, or at 
least to avoid passing us at a spot where the diffi- 


REDGAUNTLET. 73 


culty of doing so must have brought us very close 
to each other. You know my old failing, Alan, 
and that I am always willing to attend to any thing 
in preference to the individual who has for the time 
possession of the conversation. 

Agreeably to this amiable propensity, I was 
internally speculating concerning the cause of the 
rider keeping aloof from us, when my companion, 
elevating his deep voice so suddenly and so sternly, 
as at once to recall my wandering thoughts, 
-exclaimed, “In the name of the devil, young man, do 
you think that others have no better use for their 
time than you have, that you oblige me to repeat 
the same thing to you three times over ?— Do you 
see, I say, yonder thing at a mile’s distance, that 
looks like a finger-post, or rather like a gallows? 
—I would it had a dreaming fool hanging upon 
it, as an example to all meditative moon-calves ! 
— Yon gibbet-looking pole will guide you to the 
bridge, where you must pass the large brook; then 
proceed straight forwards, till several roads divide 
at a cairn. — Plague on thee, thou art wandering 
again !”’ 

It is indeed quite true, that at this moment the 
horseman approached us, and my attention was 
again called to him as I made way to let him pass. 
His whole exterior at once showed that he belonged 
to the Society of Friends, or, as the world and the 
world’s law call them, Quakers. A strong and 
useful iron-grey galloway showed, by its sleek 
and good condition, that the merciful man was 
merciful to his beast. His accoutrements were in 
the usual unostentatious, but clean and serviceable 
order, which characterises these sectaries. His 
long surtout of dark-grey superfine cloth descended 


74 REDGAUNTLET. 


down to the middle of his leg, and was buttoned 
up to his chin, to defend him against the morning 
air. As usual, his ample beaver hung down with- 
out button or loop, and shaded a comely and placid 
countenance, the gravity of which appeared to con- 
tain some seasoning of humour, and had nothing in 
common with the pinched puritanical air affected 
by devotees in general. The brow was open and 
free from wrinkles, whether of age or hypocrisy. 
The eye was clear, calm, and considerate, yet 
appeared to be disturbed by apprehension, not to say 
fear, as, pronouncing the usual salutation of “I wish 
thee a good morrow, friend,’ he indicated, by 
turning his palfrey close to one side of the path, a 
wish to glide past us with as little trouble as pos- 
sible — just as a traveller would choose to pass a 
mastiff of whose peaceable intentions he is by no 
means confident. 

But my friend, not meaning, perhaps, that he 
should get off so easily, put his horse quite across 
the path, so that, without plunging into the slough, 
or scrambling up the bank, the Quaker could not 
have passed him. Neither of these was an expe- 
riment without hazard greater than the passenger 
seemed willing to incur. He halted, therefore, as 
if waiting till my companion should make way for 
him; and, as they sat fronting each other, I could 
not help thinking that they might have formed no 
bad emblem of Peace and War; for although my 
conductor was unarmed, yet the whole of his 
manner, his stern look, and his upright seat on horse- 
back, were entirely those of a soldier in undress. 
He accosted the Quaker in these words, —“So ho! 
friend Joshua—thou art early to the road this 
morning. Has the spirit moved thee and thy 


REDGAUNTLET. 75 


righteous brethren to act with some honesty, and 
pull down yonder tide-nets that keep the fish from 
coming up the river?” 

“Surely, friend, not so,” answered Joshua, firmly, 
but good-humouredly at the same time; “ thou canst 
not expect that our own hands should pull down 
what our own purses established. Thou killest the 
fish with spear, line, and coble-net; and we, with 
snares and with nets, which work by the ebb and 
the flow of the tide. Each doth what seems best in 
his eyes to secure a share of the blessing which 
Providence hath bestowed on the river, and that 
within his own bounds. I prithee seek no quarrel 
against us, for thou shalt have no wrong at our 
hand.” 

“Be assured I will take none at the hand of 
any man, whether his hat be cocked or broad- 
brimmed,” answered the fisherman. “T tell you in 
fair terms, Joshua Geddes, that you and your part- 
ners are using unlawful craft to destroy the fish in 
the Solway by stake-nets and wears; and that we, 
who fish fairly, and like men, as our fathers did, 
have daily and yearly less sport and less profit. 
Do not think gravity or hypocrisy can carry it off 
as you have done. The world knows you, and we 
know you. You will destroy the salmon which 
make the livelihood of fifty poor families, and then 
wipe your mouth, and go to.make a speech at 
Meeting. But do not hope it will last thus. I 
give you fair warning, we will be upon you one 
morning soon, when we will not leave a stake 
standing in the pools of the Solway ; and down the 
tide they shall every one go, and wellif we do not 
send a lessee along with them.” 

“Friend,” replied Joshua, with a constrained 


76 REDGAUNTLET. 


smile, “but that I know thou dost not mean as 
thou say’st, I would tell thee we are under the pro- 
tection of this country’s laws; nor do we the less 
trust to obtain their protection, that our principles 
permit us not, by any act of violent resistance, to 
protect ourselves.” 

“All villainous cant and cowardice,” exclaimed 
the fisherman, “and assumed merely as a cloak to 
your hypocritical avarice.” 

“Nay, say not cowardice, my friend,” answered 
the Quaker, “since thou knowest there may be 
as much courage in enduring as in acting; and I 
will be judged by this youth, or by any one else, 
whether there is not more cowardice — even in the 
opinion of that world whose thoughts are the breath 
in thy nostrils — in the armed oppressor, who doth 
injury, than in the defenceless and patient sufferer, 
who endureth it with constancy.” 

“T will change no more words with you on the 
subject,” said the fisherman, who, as if something 
moved at the last argument which Mr. Geddes had 
used, now made room for him to pass forward on 
his journey. — “ Do not forget, however,” he added, 
“that you have had fair warning, nor suppose that 
we will accept of fair words in apology for foul play. 
These nets of yours are unlawful —they spoil our 
fishings — and we will have them down at all risks 
and hazards. I am a man of my word, friend 
Joshua.” 

“T trust thou art,” said the Quaker; “but thou 
art the rather bound to be cautious in rashly affirm- 
ing what thou wilt never execute. For I tell thee, 
friend, that though there is as great a difference 
between thee and one of our people, as there is 
between a lion and a sheep, yet I know and believe 


REDGAUNTLET. 77 


thou hast so much of the lion in thee, that thou 
wouldst scarce employ thy strength and thy rage 
upon that which professeth no means of resistance. 
Report says so much good of thee, at least, if it says 
little more.” 

“Time will try,’ answered the fisherman ; “and 
hark thee, Joshua, before we part I will put thee 
in the way of doing one good deed, which, credit 
me, is better than twenty moral speeches. Here 
is a stranger youth, whom heaven has so scantily 
gifted with brains, that he will bewilder himself in 
the Sands, as he did last night, unless thou wilt 
kindly show him the way to Shepherd’s Bush ; for 
I have been in vain endeavouring to make him com- 
prehend the road thither —Hast thou so much 
charity under thy simplicity, Quaker, as to do this 
good turn ?” 

“ Nay, it is thou, friend,’ answered Joshua, “that 
dost lack charity, to suppose any one unwilling to 
do so simple a kindness.” 

“Thou art right—I should have remembered 
it can cost thee nothing. — Young gentleman, this 
pious pattern of primitive simplicity will teach thee 
the right way to the Shepherd’s Bush —ay, and 
will himself shear thee like a sheep, if you come to 
buying and selling with him.” 

He then abruptly asked me, how long I intended 
to remain at Shepherd’s Bush. 

I replied I was at present uncertain — as 
long, probably, as I could amuse myself in the 
neighbourhood. 

“You are fond of sport?” he added, in the same 
tone of brief enquiry. 

I answered in the affirmative, but added, I was 
totally inexperienced. 


78 REDGAUNTLET. 


“Perhaps if you reside here for some. days,” he 
said, “we may meet again, and I may have the 
chance of giving you a lesson.” 

Ere I could express either thanks or assent, he 
turned short round with a wave of his hand, by 
way of adieu, and rode back to the verge of the dell 
from which we had emerged together; and as he 
remained standing upon the banks, I could long 
hear his voice while he shouted down to those 
within its recesses. 

Meanwhile the Quaker and I proceeded on our 
journey for some time in silence; he restraining 
his soberminded steed to a pace which might have 
suited a much less active walker than myself, and 
looking on me from time to time with an expres- 
sion of curiosity, mingled with benignity. For my 
part, I cared not to speak first. It happened I had 
never before been in company with one of this par- 
ticular sect, and, afraid that in addressing him I 
might unwittingly infringe upon some of their 
prejudices or peculiarities, I patiently remained 
silent. At length he asked me, whether I had 
been long in the service of the Laird, as men 
called him. | 

I repeated the words “in his service?” with such 
an accent of surprise, as Induced him to say, “ Nay, 
but, friend, I mean no offence; perhaps I should 
have said in his society —an inmate, I mean, in his 
house ?” 

“J am totally unknown to the person from whom 
we have just parted,” said I, “and our connexion is 
only temporary — He had the charity to give me 
his guidance from the Sands, and a night’s har- 
bourage from the tempest. So our acquaintance 
began, and there it is likely to end; for you may 


REDGAUNTLET. 79 


observe that our friend is by no means “pt to 
encourage familiarity.” 

“So little so,” answered my companion, “ “that 
thy case is, I think, the first in which I ever heard 
of his receiving any one into his house; that is, if 
thou hast really spent the night there.” 

“Why should you doubt it?” replied I; “there 
is no motive I can have to deceive you, nor is the 
object worth it.” 

“Be not angry with me,” said the Quaker; “but 
thou knowest that thine own people do not, as we 
humbly endeavour to do, confine themselves within 
the simplicity of truth, but employ the language of 
falsehood, not only for profit, but for compliment, 
and sometimes for mere diversion. I have heard 
various stories of my neighbour; of most of which I 
only believe a small part, and even then they are 
difficult to reconcile with each other. But this being 
the first time I ever heard of his receiving a stranger 
within his dwelling, made me express some doubts. 
I pray thee let them not offend thee.” 

“He does not,” said I, “appear to possess in much 
abundance the means of exercising hospitality, and 
so may be excused from offering it in ordinary 
cases.” 

“That is to say, friend,” replied Joshua, “thou hast 
supped ill, and perhaps breakfasted worse. Now my 
small tenement, called Mount Sharon, is nearer to 
us by two miles than thine inn; and although going 
thither may prolong thy walk, as taking thee off the 
straighter road to Shepherd’s Bush, yet methinks 
exercise will suit thy youthful limbs, as well as a 
good plain meal thy youthful appetite. What say’st 
thou, my young acquaintance ?” 

“Tf it puts you not to inconvenience,” I replied ; 


80 REDGAUNTLET. 


for the invitation was cordially given, and my bread 
and milk had been hastily swallowed, and in small 
quantity. 

“Nay,” said Joshua, “use not the language of 
compliment with those who renounce it. Had this 
poor courtesy been very inconvenient, perhaps I had 
not offered it.” 

“TI accept the invitation then,” said I, “in the 
same good spirit in which you give it.” 

The Quaker smiled, reached me his hand, I shook 
it, and we travelled on in great cordiality with each 
other. The fact is, I was much entertained by con- 
trasting in my own mind, the open manner of the 
kind-hearted Joshua Geddes, with the abrupt, dark, 
and lofty demeanour of my entertainer on the pre- 
ceding evening. Both were blunt and unceremo- 
nious; but the plainness of the Quaker had the 
character of devotional simplicity, and was mingled 
with the more real kindness, as if honest Joshua 
was desirous of atoning, by his sincerity, for the 
lack of external courtesy. On the contrary, the 
manners of the fisherman were those of one to 
whom the rules of good behaviour might be famil- 
iar, but who, either from pride or misanthropy, 
scorned to observe them. Still I thought of him 
with interest and curiosity, notwithstanding so 
much about him that was repulsive; and I prom- 
ised myself, in the course of my conversation with 
the Quaker, to learn all that he knew on the sub- 
ject. He turned the conversation, however, into a 
different channel, and enquired into my own con- 
dition of life, and views in visiting this remote 
frontier. 

I only thought it necessary to mention my name, 
and add, that I had been educated to the law, but 


REDGAUNTLET. 81 


finding myself possessed of some independence, I 
had of late permitted myself some relaxation, and 
was residing at Shepherd’s Bush to enjoy the plea- 
sure of angling. 

“IT do thee no harm, young man,” said my new 
friend, “in wishing thee a better employment for 
thy grave hours, and a more humane amusement (if 
amusement thou must have) for those of a lighter 
character.” 

“You are severe, sir,’ I replied. “I heard you 
but a moment since refer yourself to the protection 
of the laws of the country —if there be laws, there 
must be lawyers to explain, and judges to adminis- 
ter them.” 

Joshua smiled, and pointed to the sheep which 
were grazing on the downs over which we were 
travelling. —“ Were a wolf,” he said, ‘‘to come even 
now upon yonder flocks, they would crowd for pro- 
tection, doubtless, around the shepherd and his dogs; 
yet they are bitten and harassed daily by the one, 
shorn, and finally killed and eaten by the other. 
But I say not this to shock you; for, though laws 
and lawyers are evils, yet they are necessary evils 
in this probationary state of society, till man shall 
learn to render unto his fellows that which is their 
due, according to the light of his own conscience, 
and through no other compulsion. Meanwhile, I 
have known many righteous men who have followed 
thy intended profession in honesty and uprightness 
of walk. The greater their merit, who walk erect 
in a path which so many find slippery.” 

“ And angling,”— said I, “you object to that also 
as an amusement, you who, if I understood rightly 
what passed between you and my late landlord, are 


yourself a proprietor of fisheries ?” 
VOL. I.— 6 


82 REDGAUNTLET. 


“Not a proprietor,” he replied, “I am only, in 
copartnery with others, a tacksman or lessee of some 
valuable salmon-fisheries a little down the coast. 
But mistake me not. The evil of angling, with 
which I class all sports, as they are called, which 
have the sufferings of animals for their end and 
object, does not consist in the mere catching and 
kiling those animals with which the bounty of 
Providence hath stocked the earth for the good of 
man, but in making their protracted agony a prin- 
ciple of delight and enjoyment. I do indeed cause 
these fisheries to be conducted for the necessary 
taking, killing, and selling the fish; and, in the 
same way, were I a farmer, I should send my lambs 
to market. But I should as soon think of contriv- 
ing myself a sport and amusement out of the trade 
of the butcher as out of that of the fisher.” 

We argued this point no farther; for though I 
thought his arguments a little too high-strained, 
yet as my mind acquitted me of having taken 
delight in aught but the theory of field-sports, I did 
not think myself called upon stubbornly to advo- 
cate a practice which had afforded me so little 
pleasure. 

We had by this time arrived at the remains of 
an old finger-post, which my host had formerly 
pointed out as a landmark. Here, a ruinous wooden 
bridge, supported by long posts resembling crutches, 
served me to get across the water, while my new 
friend sought a ford a good way higher up, for the 
stream was considerably swelled. 

As I paused for his rejoining me, I observed an 
angler at a little distance pouching trout after trout, 
as fast almost as he could cast his line; and I own, 
in spite of Joshua’s lecture on humanity, I could 


REDGAUNTLET. 83 


not but envy his adroitness and success, — so natu- 
ral is the love of sport to our minds, or so easily 
are we taught to assimilate success in field-sports 
with ideas of pleasure, and with the praise due to 
address and agility. I soon recognised in the suc- 
cessful angler little Benjie, who had been my guide 
and tutor in that gentle art, as you have learned 
from my former letters. I called —I whistled — 
the rascal recognised me, and, starting like a guilty 
thing, seemed hesitating whether to approach or to 
run away ; and when he determined on the former, 
it was to assail me with a loud, clamorous, and 
exaggerated report of the anxiety of all at the 
Shepherd’s Bush for my personal safety ; how my 
landlady had wept, how Sam and the ostler had not 
the heart to go to bed, but sat up all night drinking 
—and how he himself had been up long before day- 
break to go in quest of me. 

“ And you were switching the water, I suppose,” 
said I, “ to discover my dead body ?” 

This observation produced a long “ Na —a— a” 
of acknowledged detection; but, with his natural 
impudence, and confidence in my good-nature, he 
immediately added, “ that he thought I would like 
a fresh trout or twa for breakfast, and the water 
being in such rare trim for the saumon raun,! (0) 
he couldna help taking a cast.” 

While we were engaged in this discussion, the 
honest Quaker returned to the farther end of the 
wooden bridge to tell me he could not venture to 
cross the brook in its present state, but would be 
under the necessity to ride round by the stone 

1 The bait made of salmon-row salted and preserved. In a 


swollen river, and about the month of October, it is a most deadly 
bait. 


84 REDGAUNTLET. 


bridge, which was a mile and a half higher up than 
his own house. He was about to give me directions 
how to proceed without him, and enquire for his 
sister, when I suggested to him, that if he pleased 
to trust his horse to little Benjie, the boy might 
carry him round by the bridge, while we walked 
the shorter and more pleasant road. 

Joshua shook his head, for he was well acquainted 
with Benjie, who, he said, was the naughtiest varlet 
in the whole neighbourhood. Nevertheless, rather 
than part company, he agreed to put the pony 
under his charge for a short season, with many 
injunctions that he should not attempt to mount, 
but lead the pony (even Solomon) by the bridle, 
under the assurances of sixpence in case of proper 
demeanour, and penalty that if he transgressed 
the orders given him, “verily he should be 
scourged.” 

Promises cost Benjie nothing, and he showered 
them out wholesale; till the Quaker at length 
yielded up the bridle to him, repeating his charges, 
and enforcing them by holding up his forefinger. 
On my part, I called to Benjie to leave the fish he 
had taken at Mount Sharon, making, at the same 
time, an apologetic countenance to my new friend, 
not being quite aware whether the compliment would 
be agreeable to such a condemner of field-sports. 

He understood me at once, and reminded me of 
the practical distinction betwixt catching the ani- 
mals as an object of cruel and wanton sport, and 
eating them as lawful and gratifying articles of food 
after they were killed. On the latter point he had 
no scruples ; but, on the contrary, assured me, that 
this brook contained the real red trout, so highly 
esteemed by all connoisseurs, and that, when eaten 


REDGAUNTLET. 85 


within an hour of their being caught, they had a 
peculiar firmness of substance and delicacy of fla- 
vour, which rendered them an agreeable addition to 
a morning meal, especially when earned, like ours, 
by early rising, and an hour or two’s wholesome 
exercise. 

But to thy alarm be it spoken, Alan, we did not 
come so far as the frying of our fish without farther 
adventure. So it is only to spare thy patience, and 
mine own eyes, that I pull up for the present, and 
send thee the rest of my story in a subsequent 
letter. | 


LETTER VIL. 
THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
[In continuation.] 


LITTLE BENJIE, with the pony, having been sent 
off on the left side of the brook, the Quaker and I 
sauntered on, like the cavalry and infantry of the 
same army occupying the opposite banks of a river, 
and observing the same line of march. But, while 
my worthy companion was assuring me of a plea- 
sant greensward walk to his mansion, little Benjie, 
who had been charged to keep in sight, chose to 
deviate from the path assigned him, and, turning 
to the right, led his charge, Solomon, out of our 
vision. 

“The villain means to mount him!” cried Joshua, 
with more vivacity than was consistent with his 
profession of passive endurance. 

I endeavoured to appease his apprehensions, as 
he pushed on, wiping his brow with vexation, 
assuring him, that if the boy did mount, he would, 
for his own sake, ride gently. 

“You do not know him,” said Joshua, rejecting 
all consolation ; “he do any thing gently ! — no, he 
will gallop Solomon — he will misuse the sober 
patience of the poor animal who has borne me so 
long! Yes, I was given over to my own devices 
when I ever let him touch the bridle, for such a 


REDGAUNTLET. 87 


little miscreant there never was before him in this 
country !” 

He then proceeded to expatiate on every sort of 
rustic enormity of which he accused Benjie. He 
had been suspected of snaring partridges — was 
detected by Joshua himself in liming singing birds 
— stood fully charged with having worried several 
cats, by aid of a lurcher which attended him, and 
which was as lean, and ragged, and mischievous, as 
his master. Finally, Benjie stood accused of hav- 
ing stolen a duck, to hunt it with the said lurcher, 
which was as dexterous on water as on land. I 
chimed in with my friend, in order to avoid giving 
him farther irritation, and declared, I should be 
disposed, from my own experience, to give up Benjie 
as one of Satan’s imps. Joshua Geddes began to 
censure the phrase as too much exaggerated, and 
otherwise unbecoming the mouth of a reflecting 
person; and, just as I was apologizing for it, as 
being a term of common parlance, we heard certain 
sounds on the opposite side of the brook, which 
seemed to indicate that Solomon and Benjie were 
at issue together. The sand-hills behind which 
Benjie seemed to take his course, had concealed 
from us, as doubtless he meant they should, his 
ascent into the forbidden saddle, and, putting Solo- 
mon to his mettle, which he was seldom called upon 
to exert, they had cantered away together in great 
amity, till they came near to the ford from which 
the palfrey’s legitimate owner had already turned 
back. 

Here a contest of opinions took place between the 
horse and his rider. The latter, according to his 
instructions, attempted to direct Solomon towards 
the distant bridge of stone; but Solomon opined 


88 REDGAUNTLET. 


that the ford was the shortest way to his own 
stable. The point was sharply contested, and we 
heard Benjie gee-hupping, tchek-tcheking, and, above 
all, flogging in great style; while Solomon, who, 
docile in his general habits, was now stirred beyond 
his patience, made a great trampling and recalcitra- 
tion; and it was their joint noise which we heard, 
without being able to see, though Joshua might too 
well guess, the cause of it. 

Alarmed at these indications, the Quaker began 
to shout out, “Benjie — thou varlet! — Solomon 
—thou fool!” when the couple presented them- 
selves in full drive, Solomon having now decidedly 
obtained the better of the conflict, and bringing his 
unwilling rider in high career down to the ford. 
Never was there anger changed so fast into humane 





fear, as that of my good companion. “The varlet 
will be drowned!” he exclaimed — “a widow’s son ! 
— her only son !— and drowned! — let me go” 


And he struggled with me stoutly as I hung upon 
him, to prevent him from plunging into the ford. 

I had no fear whatever for Benjie; for the black- 
guard vermin, though he could not manage the 
refractory horse, stuck on his seat like a monkey. 
Solomon and Benjie scrambled through the. ford 
with little inconvenience, and resumed their gallop 
on the other side. 

It was impossible to guess whether on this last 
occasion Benjie was running off with Solomon, or 
Solomon with Benjie; but, judging from character 
and motives, I rather suspected the former. I could 
not help laughing as the rascal passed me, grinning 
betwixt terror and delight, perched on the very 
pommel of the saddle, and holding with extended 
arms by bridle and mane; while Solomon, the bit 


REDGAUNTLET. 89 


secured between his teeth, and his head bored down 
betwixt his fore-legs, passed his master in this 
unwonted guise as hard as he could pelt. 


“The mischievous bastard!” exclaimed the 
Quaker, terrified out of his usual moderation of 
speech — “the doomed gallows-bird!— he will 


break Solomon’s wind to a certainty.” 

I prayed him to be comforted — assured him a 
brushing gallop would do his favourite no harm — 
and reminded him of the censure he had bestowed 
on me a minute before, for applying a harsh epithet 
to the boy. 

But Joshua was not without his answer; — 
“Friend youth,” he said, “thou didst speak of the 
lad’s soul, which thou didst affirm belonged to the 
enemy, and of that thou couldst say nothing of thine 
own knowledge; on the contrary, I did but speak 
of his outward man, which will assuredly be sus- 
pended by a cord, if he mendeth not his manners. 
Men say that, young as he is, he is one of the 
Laird’s gang.” 

“Of the Laird’s gang!” said I, repeating the 
words in surprise — “Do you mean the person with 
whom I slept last night? —I heard you call him 
the Laird — Is he at the head of a gang?” 

“Nay, I meant not precisely a gang,” said the 
Quaker, who appeared in his haste to have spoken 
more than he intended —“a company, or party, I 
should have said; but thus it is, friend Latimer, 
with the wisest men, when they permit themselves 
to be perturbed with passion, and speak as in a 
fever, or as with the tongue of the foolish and the 
forward. And although thou hast been hasty to 
mark my infirmity, yet I grieve not that thou hast 
been a witness to it, seeing that the stumbles of the 


90 REDGAUNTLET. 


wise may be no less a caution to youth and inex- 
perience than is the fall of the foolish.” 

This was a sort of acknowledgment of what I 
had already begun to suspect — that my new friend’s 
real goodness of disposition, joined to the acquired 
quietism of his religious sect, had been unable 
entirely to check the effervescence of a temper 
naturally warm and hasty. 

Upon the present occasion, as if sensible he had 
displayed a greater degree of emotion than became 
his character, Joshua avoided farther allusion to 
Benjie and Solomon, and proceeded to solicit my 
attention to the natural objects around us, which 
increased in beauty and interest, as, still conducted 
by the meanders of the brook, we left the common 
behind us, and entered a more cultivated and 
enclosed country, where arable and pasture ground 
was agreeably varied with groves and _ hedges. 
Descending now almost close to the stream, our 
course lay through a little gate, into a pathway, kept 
with great neatness, the sides of which were deco- 
rated with trees and flowering shrubs of the hardier 
species ; until, ascending by a gentle slope, we issued 
from the grove, and stood almost at once in front 
of a low but very neat building, of an irregular 
form; and my guide, shaking me cordially by the 
hand, made me welcome to Mount Sharon. 

The wood through which we had approached this 
little mansion was thrown around it both on the 
north and north-west, but, breaking off into differ- 
ent directions, was intersected by a few fields, well 
watered and sheltered. The house fronted to the 
south-east, and from thence the pleasure-ground, or, 
I should rather say, the gardens, sloped down to 
the water. I afterwards understood that the father 


REDGAUNTLERT. QI 


of the present proprietor had a considerable taste 
for horticulture, which had been inherited by his 
son, and had formed these gardens, which, with 
their shaven turf, pleached alleys, wildernesses, and 
exotic trees and shrubs, greatly excelled any thing 
of the kind which had been attempted in the 
neighbourhood. 

If there was a little vanity in the complacent 
smile with which Joshua Geddes saw me gaze with 
delight on a scene so different from the naked waste 
we had that day traversed in company, it might 
surely be permitted to one, who, cultivating and 
improving the beauties of nature, had found therein, 
as he said, bodily health and a pleasing relaxation 
for the mind. At the bottom of the extended 
gardens the brook wheeled round in a wide semi- 
circle, and was itself their boundary. The opposite 
side was no part of Joshua’s domain, but the brook 
was there skirted by a precipitous rock of lime- 
stone, which seemed a barrier of Nature’s own 
erecting around his little Eden of beauty, comfort, 
and peace. 

“But I must not let thee forget,” said the kind 
Quaker, ‘‘amidst thy admiration of these beauties 
of our little inheritance, that thy breakfast has been 
a light one.” 

So saying, Joshua conducted me to a small sashed 
door, opening under a porch amply mantled by 
honeysuckle and clematis, into a parlour of moder- 
ate size; the furniture of which, in plainness and 
excessive cleanliness, bore the characteristic marks 
of the sect to which the owner belonged. 

Thy father’s Hannah is generally allowed to be 
an exception to all Scottish housekeepers, and stands 
unparalleled for cleanliness among the women of 


92 REDGAUNTLET. 


Auld Reekie; but the cleanliness of Hannah is slut- 
tishness, compared to the scrupulous purifications 
of these people, who seem to carry into the minor 
decencies of life that conscientious rigour which 
they affect in their morals. 

The parlour would have been gloomy, for the 
windows were small and the ceiling low; but the 
present proprietor had rendered it more cheerful by 
opening one end into a small conservatory, roofed 
with glass, and divided from the parlour by a parti- 
tion of the same. I have never before seen this 
very pleasing manner of uniting the comforts of an 
apartment with the beauties of a garden, and I 
wonder it is not more practised by the great. 
Something of the kind is hinted at in a paper of 
the Spectator. 

As I walked towards the conservatory to view it 
more Closely, the parlour chimney engaged my atten- 
tion. It wasa pile of massive stone, entirely out 
of proportion to the size of the apartment. On 
the front had once been an armorial scutcheon ; for 
the hammer, or chisel, which had been employed 
to deface the shield and crest, had left uninjured 
the scroll beneath, which bore the pious motto, 
“Trust in God.’ Black-letter, you know, was my 
early passion, and the tombstones in the Greyfriars’ 
Churchyard early yielded up to my knowledge as 
a decipherer what little they could tell of the for- 
gotten dead. | 

Joshua Geddes paused when he saw my eye fixed 
on this relic of antiquity. “Thou canst read it?” 
he said. 

I repeated the motto, and added, there seemed 
vestiges of a date. 

“Tt should be 1537,” said he; “for so long ago, 


REDGAUNTLET. 93 


at the least computation, did my ancestors, in the 
blinded times of Papistry, possess these lands, and 
in that year did they build their house.” 

“Tt is an ancient descent,” said I, looking with 
respect upon the monument. “I am sorry the arms 
have been defaced.” 

It was perhaps impossible for my friend, Quaker 
as he was, to seem altogether void of respect for the 
pedigree which he began to recount to me, disclaim- 
ing all the while the vanity usually connected with 
the subject; in short, with the air of mingled 
melancholy, regret, and conscious dignity, with 
which Jack Fawkes used to tell us, at College, 
of his ancestor’s unfortunate connexion with the 
Gunpowder-Plot. 

“Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher,” — thus 
harangued Joshua Geddes of Mount Sharon ;— “if 
we ourselves are nothing in the sight of Heaven, 
how much less than nothing must be our derivation 
from rotten bones and mouldering dust, whose 
immortal spirits have long since gone to their pri- 
vate account! Yes, friend Latimer, my ancestors 
were renowned among the ravenous and bloodthirsty 
men who then dwelt in this vexed country; and so 
much were they famed for successful freebooting, 
robbery, and bloodshed, that they are said to have 
been called Geddes, as hkening them to the fish 
called a Jack, Pike, or Luce, and in our country 
tongue, a Ged —a goodly distinction truly for Chris- 
tian men! Yet did they paint this shark of the 
fresh waters upon their shields, and these profane 
priests of a wicked idolatry, the empty boasters 
called heralds, who make engraven images of fishes, 
fowls, and fourfooted beasts, that men may fall 
down and worship them, assigned the Ged for the 


94 REDGAUNTLET. 


device and escutcheon of my fathers, and hewed it 
over their chimneys, and placed it above their 
tombs; and the men were elated in mind, and 
became yet more Ged-like, slaying, leading into cap- 
tivity, and dividing the spoil, until the place where 
they dwelt obtained the name of Sharing-Knowe, 
from the booty which was there divided amongst 
them and their accomplices. But a better judg- 
ment was given to my father’s father, Philip Geddes, 
who, after trying to hght his candle at some of the 
vain wildfires then held aloft at different meetings 
and steeple-houses, at length obtained a spark from 
the lamp of the blessed George Fox, who came 
into Scotland spreading ight among darkness, as 
he himself hath written, as plentifully as fly the 
sparkles from the hoof of the horse which gallops 
swiftly along the stony road.” — Here the good 
Quaker interrupted himself with, “And that is 
very true, I must go speedily to see after the con- 
dition of Solomon.” 

A Quaker servant here entered the room with a 
tray, and inclining his head towards his master, but 
not after the manner of one who bows, said com- 
posedly, “Thou art welcome home, friend Joshua, 
we expected thee not so early; but what hath 
befallen Solomon thy horse?” 

“What hath befallen him, indeed!” said my 
friend; “hath he not been returned hither by the 
child whom they call Benjie ?” 

“He hath,” said his domestic, “but it was after 
a strange fashion; for he came hither at a swift 
and furious pace, and flung the child Benjie from 
his back, upon the heap of dung which is in the 
stable-yard.” 

“Tam glad of it,” said Joshua, hastily, — “glad 


REDGAUNTLET. 95 


of it, with all my heart and spirit !— But stay, he 
is the child of the widow — hath the boy any hurt?” 

“Not so,” answered the servant, “for he rose and 
fled swiftly.” 

Joshua muttered something about a scourge, and 
then enquired after Solomon’s present condition. 

“He seetheth lke a steaming caldron,” answered 
the servant; “and Bauldie, the lad, walketh him 
about the yard with a halter, lest he take cold.” 

Mr. Geddes hastened to the stable-yard to view 
personally the condition of his favourite, and I fol- 
lowed, to offer my counsel as a jockey — Don’t 
laugh, Alan; sure I have jockeyship enough to 
assist a Quaker — in this unpleasing predicament. 

The lad who was leading the horse seemed to be 
no Quaker, though his intercourse with the family 
had given him a touch of their prim sobriety of look 
and manner. He assured Joshua that his horse had 
received no injury, and I even hinted that the exer- 
cise would be of service to him. Solomon himself 
neighed towards his master, and rubbed his head 
against the good Quaker’s shoulder, as if to assure 
him of his being quit? well; so that Joshua returned 
in comfort to his parlour, where breakfast was now 
about to be displayed. 

I have since learned that the affection of Joshua 
for his pony is considered as inordinate by some of 
his own sect; and that he has been much blamed 
for permitting it to be called by the name of 
Solomon, or any other name whatever; but he has 
gained so much respect and influence among them 
that they overlook these foibles. 

I learned from him (whilst the old servant, 
Jehoiachim, entering and re-entering, seemed to 
make no end of the materials which he brought in 


96 REDGAUNTLET. 


for breakfast) that his grandfather Philip, the con- 
vert of George Fox, had suffered much from the 
persecution to which these harmless devotees were 
subjected on all sides during that intolerant period, 
and much of their family estate had been dilapi- 
dated. But better days dawned on Joshua’s father, 
who, connecting himself by marriage with a wealthy 
family of Quakers in Lancashire, engaged suc- 
cessfully in various branches of commerce, and 
redeemed the remnants of the property, changing 
its name in sense, without much alteration of sound, 
from the Border appellation of Sharing-Knowe, to 
the evangelical appellation of Mount Sharon. 

This Philip Geddes, as I before hinted, had 
imbibed the taste for horticulture and the pursuits 
of the florist, which are not uncommon among the 
peaceful sect he belongs to. He had destroyed 
the remnants of the old peel-house, substituting 
the modern mansion in its place; and while he 
reserved the hearth of his ancestors, in memory of 
their hospitality, as also the pious motto which they 
had chanced to assume, he failed not to obliterate 
the worldly and military emblems displayed upon 
the shield and helmet, together with all their 
blazonry. 

In a few minutes after Mr. Geddes had concluded 
the account of himself and his family, his sister 
Rachel, the only surviving member of it, entered 
the room. Her appearance is remarkably pleasing, 
and although her age is certainly thirty at least, 
she still retains the shape and motion of an earlier 
period. The absence of every thing lke fashion or 
ornament was, as usual, atoned for by the most 
perfect neatness and cleanliness of her dress; and 
her simple close cap was particularly suited to eyes 


REDGAUNTLET. 97 


which had the softness and simplicity of the dove’s. 
Her features were also extremely agreeable, but 
had suffered a little through the ravages of that 
professed enemy to beauty, the small-pox; a dis- 
advantage which was in part counterbalanced by 
a well-formed mouth, teeth lke pearls, and a 
pleasing sobriety of smile, that seemed to wish 
good here and hereafter to every one she spoke to. 
You cannot make any of your vile inferences here, 
Alan, for I have given a full-length picture of 
Rachel Geddes; so that you cannot say in this 
case, as in the letter I have just received, that she 
was passed over as a subject on which I feared 
to dilate. More of this anon. 

Well, we settled to our breakfast after a blessing, 
or rather an extempore prayer, which Joshua made 
upon the occasion, and which the spirit moved him 
to prolong rather more than I felt altogether agree- 
able. Then, Alan, there was such a dispatching of 
the good things of the morning, as you have not 
witnessed since you have seen Darsie Latimer at 
breakfast. Tea and chocolate, eggs, ham, and 
pastry, not forgetting the broiled fish, disappeared 
with a celerity which seemed to astonish the good- 
humoured Quakers, who kept loading my plate with 
supplies, as if desirous of seeing whether they could 
by any possibility tire me out. One hint, however, 
IT received, which put me in mind where I was. 
Miss Geddes had offered me some_ sweet-cake, 
which, at the moment, I declined; but presently 
afterwards, seeing it within my reach, I naturally 
enough helped myself to a slice, and had just depos- 
ited it beside my plate, when Joshua, mine host, 
not with the authoritative air of Sancho’s doctor, 
Tirtea Fuera, but in a very calm and quiet manner, 

VOL. 1.-——7 


98 REDGAUNTLET. 


lifted it away and replaced it on the dish, observing 
only, “Thou didst refuse it before, friend Latimer.” 

These good folks, Alan, make no allowance for 
what your father calls the Aberdeen-man’s privi- 
lege of “taking his word again ;” or what the wise 
call second thoughts. 

Bating this slight hint, that I was among a pre- 
cise generation, there was nothing in my reception 
that was peculiar — unless, indeed, I were to notice 
the solicitous and uniform kindness with which all 
the attentions of my new friends were seasoned, as 
if they were anxious to assure me that the neglect 
of worldly compliments interdicted by their sect, 
only served to render their hospitality more sincere. 
At length my hunger was satisfied, and the worthy 
Quaker, who, with looks of great good-nature, had 
watched my progress, thus addressed his sister : — 

“This young man, Rachel, hath last night 
sojourned in the tents of our neighbour, whom men 
call the Laird. JI am sorry I had not met him the 
evening before, for our neighbour’s hospitality is 
too unfrequently exercised to be well prepared with 
the means of welcome.” 

“Nay, but, Joshua,” said Rachel, “if our neigh- 
bour hath done a kindness, thou shouldst not grudge 
him the opportunity ; and if our young friend hath 
fared ill for a night, he will the better relish what 
Providence may send bim of better provisions.” 

“And that he may do so at leisure,” said Joshua, 
“we will pray him, Rachel, to tarry a day or twain 
with us; he is young, and is but now entering 
upon the world, and our habitation may, if he will, 
be like a resting-place, from which he may look 
abroad upon the pilgrimage which he must make, 
and the path which he has to travel. — What sayest 


REDGAUNTLET. 99 


thou, friend Latimer? We constrain not our friends 
to our ways, and thou art, I think, too wise to quar- 
rel with us for following our own fashions; and if 
we should even give thee a word of advice, thou 
wilt not, I think, be angry, so that it is spoken in 
season.” 

You know, Alan, how easily I am determined by 
any thing resembling cordiality — and so, though a 
little afraid of the formality of my host and hostess, 
I accepted their invitation, provided I could get 
some messenger to send to Shepherd’s Bush for my 
servant and portmanteau. 

“Why, truly, friend,” said Joshua, “thine out- 
ward frame would be improved by cleaner garments ; 
but I will do thine errand myself to the Widow 
Gregson’s house of reception, and send thy lad 
hither with thy clothes. Meanwhile, Rachel will 
show thee these little gardens, and then will put thee 
in some way of spending thy time usefully, till our 
meal calls us together at the second hour afternoon. 
I bid thee farewell for the present, having some 
space to walk, seeing I must leave the animal 
Solomon to his refreshing rest.” 

With these words, Mr. Joshua Geddes withdrew. 
Some ladies we have known would have felt, or at 
least affected, reserve or embarrassment, at being 
left to do the honours of the grounds to — (it will 
be out, Alan)—a smart young fellow —an entire 
stranger. She went out for a few minutes, and 
returned in her plain cloak and bonnet, with her 
beaver-gloves, prepared to act as my guide, with as 
much simplicity as if she had been to wait upon thy 
father. So forth I sallied with my fair Quaker. 

If the house at Mount Sharon be merely a plain 
and convenient dwelling, of moderate size, and small 


100 REDGAUNTLET. 


pretensions, the gardens and offices, though not 
extensive, might rival an earl’s in point of care and 
expense. Rachel carried me first to her own favour- 
ite resort, a poultry-yard, stocked with a variety of 
domestic fowls, of the more rare as well as the 
more ordinary kinds, furnished with every accom- 
modation which may suit their various habits. 
A rivulet which spread into a pond for the conve- 
nience of the aquatic birds, trickled over gravel as 
it passed through the yards dedicated to the land 
poultry, which were thus amply supplied with the 
means they use for digestion. 

All these creatures seemed to recognise the pre- 
sence of their mistress, and some especial favourites 
hastened to her feet, and continued to follow her 
as far as their limits permitted. She pointed out 
their peculiarities and qualities, with the discrimi- 
nation of one who had made natural history her 
study ; and I own I never looked on barn-door 
fowls with so much interest before —at least until 
they were boiled or roasted. I could not help ask- 
ing the trying question, how she could order the 
execution of any of the creatures of which she 
seemed so careful. 

“It was painful,” she said, “ but it was according 
to the law of their being. They must die; but 
they knew not when death was approaching; and 
in making them comfortable while they lived, we 
contributed to their happiness as much as the con- 
ditions of their existence permitted to us.” 

I am not quite of her mind, Alan. I do not 
believe either pigs or poultry would admit that the 
chief end of their being was to be killed and eaten. 
However, I did not press the areument, from which 
my Quaker seemed rather desirous to escape ; for, 


REDGAUNTLET. 101 


conducting me to the greenhouse, which was exten- 
sive, and filled with the choicest plants, she pointed 
out an aviary which occupied the farther end, where, 
she said, she employed herself with attending the 
inhabitants, without being disturbed with any pain- 
ful recollections concerning their future destination. 

I will not trouble you with any account of the 
various hothouses and gardens, and their contents. 
No small sum of money must have been expended 
in erecting and maintaining them in the exquisite 
degree of good order which they exhibited. The 
family, I understood, were connected with that of 
the celebrated Millar, and had imbibed his taste 
for flowers and for horticulture. But instead of 
murdering botanical names, I will rather conduct 
you to the policy, or pleasure-garden, which the 
taste of Joshua or his father had extended on the 
banks betwixt the house and river. This also, in 
contradistinction to the prevailing simplicity, was 
ornamented in an unusual degree. There were 
various compartments, the connexion of which was 
well managed, and although the whole ground did 
not exceed five or six acres, it was so much varied 
as to seem four times larger. The space contained 
close alleys and open walks; a very pretty artificial 
waterfall; a fountain also, consisting of a consider- 
able jet-d’eau, whose streams glittered in the 
sunbeams, and exhibited a continual rainbow. There 
was a cabinet of verdure, as the French call it, to 
cool the summer heat, and there was a terrace shel- 
tered from the north-east by a noble holly hedge, 
with all its glittering spears, where you might have 
the full advantage of the sun in the clear frosty 
days of winter. 

I know that you, Alan, will condemn all this as 


102 REDGAUNTLET. 


bad and antiquated; for, ever since Dodsley has 
described the Leasowes, and talked of Brown’s 
imitations of nature, and Horace Walpole’s late 
Essay on Gardening, you are all for simple nature 
—condemn walking up and down stairs in the 
open air, and declare for wood and wilderness. 
But ne guid nimis. I would not deface a scene of 
natural grandeur or beauty, by the introduction of 
crowded artificial decorations; yet such may, I 
think, be very interesting, where the situation, in its 
natural state, otherwise has no particular charms. 

So that when I have a country-house, (who can 
say how soon?) you may look for grottoes, and 
cascades, and fountains; nay, if you vex me by con- 
tradiction, perhaps I may go the length of a temple 
— so provoke me not, for you see of what enormi- 
ties | am capable. 

At any rate, Alan, had you condemned as arti- 
ficial the rest of Friend Geddes’s grounds, there is 
a willow walk by the very verge of the stream, so | 
sad, so solemn, and so silent, that it must have 
commanded youradmiration. The brook, restrained 
at the ultimate boundary of the grounds by a 
natural dam-dike or ledge of rocks, seemed, even 
in its present swoln state, scarcely to glide along; 
and the pale willow-trees, dropping their long 
branches into the stream, gathered around them 
little coronals of the foam that floated down from 
the more rapid streamabove. The high rock, which 
formed the opposite bank of the brook, was seen 
dimly through the branches, and its pale and splin- 
tered front, garlanded with long streamers of briers 
and other creeping plants, seemed a barrier between 
the quiet path which we trode, and the toiling and 
bustling world beyond. The path itself, following 


REDGAUNTLET. 103 


the sweep of the stream, made a very gentle curve ; 
enough, however, served by its inflection completely 
to hide the end of the walk, until you arrived at it. 
A deep and sullen sound, which increased as you pro- 
ceeded, prepared you for this termination, which was 
indeed only a plain root-seat, from which you looked 
on afall of about six or seven feet, where the brook 
flung itself over the ledge of natural rock I have 
already mentioned, which there crossed its course. 

The quiet and twilight seclusion of this walk 
rendered it a fit scene for confidential communing ; 
and having nothing more interesting to say to my 
fair Quaker, I took the liberty of questioning her 
about the Laird; for you are, or ought to be, aware, 
that next to discussing the affairs of the heart, the 
fair sex are most interested in those of their 
neighbours. 

I did not conceal either my curiosity, or the 
check which it had received from Joshua, and I 
saw that my companion answered with embarrass- 
ment. “I must not speak otherwise than truly,” 
she said; “and therefore I tell thee, that my bro- 
her dislikes, and that I fear, the man of whom 
thou hast asked me. Perhaps we are both wrong 
—but he is a man of violence, and hath great 
influence over many, who, following the trade of 
sailors and fishermen, become as rude as the ele- 
ments with which they contend. He hath no 
certain name among them, which is not unusual, 
their rude fashion being to distinguish each other by 
nicknames ; and they have called him the Laird of 
the Lakes, (not remembering there should be no 
one called Lord, save one only,) in idle derision ; 
the pools of salt water left by the tide among the 
sands being called the Lakes of Solway.” 


104 REDGAUNTLET. 


“Has he no other revenue than he derives from 
these sands?” I asked. 

“That I cannot answer,” replied Rachel; “men 
say that he wants not money, though he lives like 
an ordinary fisherman, and that he imparts freely 
of his means to the poor around him. They inti-. 
mate that he is a man of consequence, once deeply 
engaged in the unhappy affair of the rebellion, and 
even still too much in danger from the government 
to assume his own name. He is often absent from 
his cottage at Broken-burn-cliffs, for weeks and 
months.” 

“JT should have thought,” said I, “that the 
government would scarce, at this time of day, be 
likely to proceed against any one even of the 
most obnoxious rebels. Many years have passed 
away ” 

“Tt is true,” she replied; “ yet such persons may 
understand that their being connived at depends on 
their living in obscurity. But indeed there can noth- 
ing certain be known among these rude people. 
The truth is not in them — most of them participate 
in the unlawful trade betwixt these parts and the 
neighbouring shore of England ; and they are familiar 
with every species of falsehood and deceit.” 

“Tt is a pity,” I remarked, “that your brother 
should have neighbours of such a description, espe- 
cially as I understand he is at some variance with 
them.” : 

“Where, when, and about what matter?” 
answered Miss Geddes, with an eager and timorous 
anxiety, which made me regret having touched on 
the subject. 

I told her, in a way as little alarming as I could 
devise, the purport of what had passed betwixt this 





REDGAUNTLET. 105 


Laird of the Lakes and her brother, at their morn- 
ing’s interview. 

“You affright me much,” answered she; “it is 
this very circumstance which has scared me in the 
watches of the night. When my brother Joshua 
withdrew from an active sharein the commercial 
concerns of my father, being satisfied with the por- 
tion of ‘worldly substance which he already possessed, 
there were one or two undertakings in which 
he retained an interest, either because his with- 
drawing might have been prejudicial to friends, or 
because he wished to retain some mode of occupy- 
ing his time. Amongst the more important of 
these, is a fishing station on the coast, where, by 
certain improved modes of erecting snares, opening 
at the advance of the tide, and shutting at the reflux, 
many more fish are taken than can be destroyed 
by those who, like the men of Broken-burn, use 
only the boat-net and spear, or fishing-rod. They 
complain of these tide-nets, as men call them, as an 
innovation, and pretend to a right to remove and 
destroy them by the strong hand. I fear me, this 
man of violence, whom they call the Laird, will 
execute these his threats, which cannot be without 
both loss and danger to my brother.” 

“Mr. Geddes,” said I, “ought to apply to the 
civil magistrate ; there are soldiers at Dumfries who 
would be detached for his protection.” 

“Thou speakest, friend Latimer,’ answered the 
lady, “as one who is still in the gall of bitterness 
and bond of iniquity. God forbid that we should 
endeavour to preserve nets of flax and stakes of 
wood, or the Mammon of gain which they procure 
for us, by the hands of men of war, and at the risk 
of spilling human blood!” 


106 REDGAUNTLET. 


“T respect your scruples,” I replied; “ but since 
such is your way of thinking, your brother ought to 
avert the danger by compromise or submission.” 

“Perhaps it would be best,’ answered Rachel; 
“but what can J say? Even in the best-trained 
temper there may remain some leaven of the old 
Adam; and I know not whether it is this or a 
better spirit that maketh my brother Joshua deter- 
mine, that though he will not resist force by force, 
neither will he yield up his right to mere threats, 
or encourage wrong to others by yielding to 
menaces. His partners, he says, confide in his 
steadiness ; and that he must not disappoint them 
by yielding up their right for the fear of the threats 
of man, whose breath is in his nostrils.” 

This observation convinced me that the spirit of 
the old sharers of the spoil was not utterly departed 
even from the bosom of the peaceful Quaker; and 
I could not help confessing internally that Joshua 
had the right, when he averred that there was as 
much courage in sufferance as in exertion. 

As we approached the further end of the willow 
walk, the sullen and continuous sound of the dash- 
ing waters became still more and more audible, and 
at length rendered it difficult for us to communicate 
with each other. The conversation dropped, but 
apparently my companion continued to dwell upon 
the apprehensions which it had excited. At the 
bottom of the walk, we obtained a view of the cas- 
cade, where the swoln brook flung itself in foam 
and tumult over the natural barrier of rock, which 
seemed in vain to attempt to bar its course. I 
gazed with delight, and, turning to express my sen- 
timents to my companion, I observed that she had 
folded her hands in an attitude of sorrowful resig- 


REDGAUNTLET. 107 


nation, which showed her thoughts were far from 
the scene which lay before her. When she saw 
that her abstraction was observed, she resumed her 
former placidity of manner; and having given me 
sufficient time to admire this termination of our 
sober and secluded walk, proposed that we should 
return to the house through her brother’s farm. 
«Even we Quakers, as we are called, have our little 
pride,” she said; “and my brother Joshua would 
not forgive me, were I not to show thee the fields 
which he taketh delight to cultivate, after the new- 
est and best fashion; for which, I promise thee, he 
hath received much praise from good judges, as well 
as some ridicule from those who think it folly to 
improve on the customs of our ancestors.” 

As she spoke, she opened a low door, leading 
through a moss and ivy-covered wall, the bound- 
ary of the pleasure-ground, into the open fields; 
through which we moved by a convenient path, 
leading, with good taste and simplicity, by stile and 
hedge-row, through pasturage, and arable, and 
woodland ; so that, in all ordinary weather, the good 
man might, without even soiling his shoes, perform 
his perambulation round the farm. There were 
seats also, on which to rest; and though not adorned 
with inscriptions, nor quite so frequent in occur- 
rence as those mentioned in the account of the 
Leasowes, their situation was always chosen with 
respect to some distant prospect to be commanded, 
or some home-view to be enjoyed. 

But what struck me most in Joshua’s domain, 
was the quantity and the tameness of the game. 
The hen partridge scarce abandoned the roost at 
the foot of the hedge where she had assembled her 
covey, though the path went close beside her; and 


108 REDGAUNTLET. 


the hare, remaining on her form, gazed at us as we 
passed, with her full dark eye, or, rising lazily and 
hopping to a little distance, stood erect to look at us 
with more curiosity than apprehension. I observed 
to Miss Geddes the extreme tameness of these 
timid and shy animals, and she informed me that 
their confidence arose from protection in the sum- 
mer, and relief during the winter. 

“They are pets,” she said, “of my brother, who 
considers them as the better entitled to this kind- 
ness that they are a race persecuted by the world 
in general. He denieth himself,” she said, ‘‘even 
the company of a dog, that these creatures may 
here at least enjoy undisturbed security. Yet this 
harmless or humane propensity, or humour, hath 
given offence,” she added, “to our dangerous 
neighbour.” 

She explained this, by telling me that my host of 
the preceding night was remarkable for his attach- 
ment to field sports, which he pursued without much 
regard to the wishes of the individuals over whose 
property he followed them. The undefined mixture 
of respect and fear with which he was generally 
regarded, induced most of the neighbouring land- 
holders to connive at what they would perhaps in 
another have punished as a trespass; but Joshua 
Geddes would not permit the intrusion of any one 
upon his premises, and as he had before offended 
several country neighbours, who, because he would 
neither shoot himself nor permit others to do so, 
compared him to the dog in the manger, so he now 
ageravated the displeasure which the Laird of the 
Lakes had already conceived against him, by posi- 
tively debarring him from pursuing his sport over 
his grounds — “So that,” said Rachel Geddes, “I 


REDGAUNTLET. 109 


sometimes wish our lot had been cast elsewhere than 
in these pleasant borders, where, if we had less of 
beauty around us, we might have had a neighbour- 
hood of peace and good-will.” 

We at length returned to the house, where Miss 
Geddes showed me a small study, containing a little 
collection of books, in two separate presses. 

“These,” said she, pointing to the smaller press, 
“will, if thou bestowest thy leisure upon them, do 
thee good; and these,” pointing to the other and 
larger cabinet, “can, I believe, do thee little harm. 
Some of our people do indeed hold, that every writer 
who is not with us is against us ; but brother Joshua 
is mitigated in his opinions, and correspondeth with 
our friend John Scott of Amwell, who hath himself 
constructed verses well approved of even in the 
world. — I wish thee many good thoughts till our 
family meet at the hour of dinner.” 

Left alone, I tried both collections; the first 
consisted entirely of religious and controversial 
tracts, and the latter formed a small selection of 
history, and of moral writers, both in prose and 
verse. 

Neither collection promising much amusement, 
thou hast, in these close pages, the fruits of my 
tediousness; and truly, I think, writing history 
(one’s self being the subject) is as amusing as read- 
ing that of foreign countries, at any time. 

Sam, still more drunk than sober, arrived in due 
time with my portmanteau, and enabled me to put 
my dress into order, better befitting this temple of 
cleanliness and decorum, where (to conclude) I 
believe I shall be a sojourner for more days than 


one. 
1 Note I. 


110 REDGAUNTLET. 


P.S. — I have noted your adventure, as you home- 
bred youths may perhaps term it, concerning the 
visit of your doughty Laird. We travellers hold 
such an incident of no great consequence, though it 
may serve to embellish the uniform life of Brown’s 
Square. But art thou not ashamed to attempt to 
interest one who is seeing the world at large, and 
studying human nature on a large scale, by so bald 
a narrative? Why, what does it amount to, after 
all, but that a Tory Laird dined with a Whig Law- 
yer? no very uncommon matter, especially as you 
state Mr. Herries to have lost the estate, though 
retaining the designation. The Laird behaves 
with haughtiness and impertinence — nothing out 
of character in that: Is not kicked down stairs, 
as he ought to have been, were Alan Fairford half 
the man that he would wish his friends to think 
him. — Ay, but then, as the young lawyer, instead 
of showing his friend the door, chose to make use 
of it himself, he overheard the Laird aforesaid ask 
the old lawyer concerning Darsie Latimer — no 
doubt earnestly enquiring after the handsome, 
accomplished inmate of his family, who has so 
lately made Themis his bow, and declined the 
honour of following her farther. You laugh at 
me for my air-drawn castles; but confess, have 
they not surer footing, in general, than two words 
spoken by such a man as Herries? And yet — 
and yet—I would rally the matter off, Alan; 
but in dark nights, even the glow-worm becomes 
an object of lustre, and to one plunged in my 
uncertainty and ignorance, the slightest gleam that 
promises intelligence, is interesting. My life is 
like the subterranean river in the Peak of Derby, 
visible only where it crosses the celebrated cavern. 


REDGAUNTLET. It 


I am here, and this much I know; but where I 
have sprung from, or whither my course of life is 
like to tend, who shall tell me? Your father, 
too, seemed interested and alarmed, and talked of 
writing; would to Heaven he may!—TI send daily 
to the post-town for letters. 


LETTER VIII. 
ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER. 


THou mayst clap thy wings and crow as thou 
pleasest. You go in search of adventures, but 
adventures come to me unsought for; and oh! in 
what a pleasing shape came mine, since it arrived 
in the form of a chent —and a fair client to boot ! 
What think you of that, Darsie, you who are such 
a sworn squire of dames? Will this not match my 
adventures with thine, that hunt salmon on horse- 
back, and will it not, besides, eclipse the history of 
a whole tribe of Broadbrims ?— But I must proceed 
methodically. 

When I.returned to-day from the College, I was 
surprised to see a broad grin distending the adust 
countenance of the faithful James Wilkinson, which, 
as the circumstance seldom happens above once 
a-year, was matter of some surprise. Moreover, he 
had a knowing glance with his eye, which I should 
have as soon expected from a dumb-waiter —an 
article of furniture to which James, in his usual 
state, may be happily assimilated. “What the 
devil is the matter, James?” 

“The devil may be in the matter, for aught I ken,” 
said James, with another provoking grin; “for here 
has been a woman calling for you, Maister Alan.” 

«A woman calling for me?” said I in surprise; 
for you know well, that excepting old Aunt Peggy, 
who comes to dinner of a Sunday, and the still older 


REDGAUNTLET. 113 


Lady Bedrooket, who calls ten times a-year for the 
quarterly payment of her jointure of four hundred 
merks, a female scarce approaches our threshold, as 
my father visits all his female clients at their own 
lodgings. James protested, however, that there had 
been a lady calling, and for me. “As bonny a lass 
as I have seen,” added James, “since I was in the 
Fusileers, and kept company with Peg Baxter.” Thou 
knowest all James’s gay recollections go back to the 
period of his military service, the years he has spent 
in ours having probably been dull enough. 

“ Did the lady leave no name nor place of address ?” 

“No,” replied James; “but she asked when you 
wad be at hame, and I appointed her for twelve o’ 
clock, when the house wad be quiet, and your father 
at the Bank.” 

“For shame, James! how can you think my 
father’s being at home or abroad could be of conse- 
quence ?— The lady is of course a decent person ? ” 

“T’se uphaud her that, sir —she is nane of your 
— whew” — [Here James supplied a blank with a 
low whistle] —“but I didna ken — my maister 
makes an unco wark if a woman comes here.” 

I passed into my own room, not ill-pleased that 
my father was absent, notwithstanding I had thought 
it proper to rebuke James for having so contrived it. 
I disarranged my books, to give them the appearance 
of a graceful confusion on the table, and laying my 
foils (useless since your departure) across the man- 
telpiece, that the lady might see I was tam Marte 
quam Mercurio — I endeavoured to dispose my dress 
so as to resemble an elegant morning dishabille — 
gave my hair the general shade of powder which 
marks the gentleman — laid my watch and seals on 
the table, to hint that I understood the value of time ; 


VOL.I.—8 


114 REDGAUNTLET. 


—and when I had made all these arrangements — 
of which I am a little ashamed when I think of them 
— I had nothing better to do than to watch the dial- 
plate till the index pointed to noon. Five minutes 
elapsed, which I allowed for variation of clocks — 
five minutes more rendered me anxious and doubtful 
—and five minutes more would have made me 
impatient. 

Laugh as thou wilt; but remember, Darsie, I was 
a lawyer, expecting his first client—a young man, 
how strictly bred up I need not remind you, expect- 
ing a private interview with a young and beautiful 
woman. But ere the third term of five minutes had 
elapsed, the door-bell was heard to tinkle low and 
modestly, as if touched by some timid hand. 

James Wilkinson, swift in nothing, is, as thou 
knowest, peculiarly slow in answering the door- 
bell; and I reckoned on five minutes good, ere his 
solemn step should have ascended the stair. Time 
enough, thought I, for a peep through the blinds, 
and was hastening to the window accordingly. But 
I reckoned without my host; for James, who had 
his own curiosity as well as I, was lying perdu in 
the lobby, ready to open at the first tinkle; and 
there was, “This way, ma’am— Yes, ma’am — The 
lady, Mr. Alan,” before I could get to the chair in 
which I proposed to be discovered, seated in all legal 
dignity. The consciousness of being half caught in 
the act of peeping, joined to that native air of awk- 
ward bashfulness of which I am told the law will 
soon free me, kept me standing on the floor in some 
confusion ; while the lady, disconcerted on her part, 
remained on the threshold of the room. James 
Wilkinson, who had his senses most about him, and 
was perhaps willing to prolong his stay in the apart- 


REDGAUNTLET. 115 


ment, busied himself in setting a chair for the lady, 
and recalled me to my good breeding by the hint. 
I invited her to take possession of it, and bid James 
withdraw. 

My visitor was undeniably a lady, and probably 
considerably above the ordinary rank — very modest, 
too, judging from the mixture of grace and timidity 
with which she moved, and at my entreaty sat 
down. Her dress was, I should suppose, both 
handsome and fashionable; but it was much con- 
cealed by a walking-cloak of green silk, fancifully 
embroidered; in which, though heavy for the sea- 
son, her person was enveloped, and which, moreover, 
was furnished with a hood. 

The devil take that hood, Darsie! for I was just 
able to distinguish that, pulled as it was over the 
face, it concealed from me, as I was convinced, one 
of the prettiest countenances I have seen, and which, 
from a sense of embarrassment, seemed to be crim- 
soned with a deep blush. I could see her complexion 
was beautiful —her chin finely turned — her lips 
coral — and her teeth rivals to ivory. But further 
the deponent sayeth not; for a clasp of gold, orna- 
mented with a sapphire, closed the envious mantle 
under the incognita’s throat, and the cursed hood 
concealed entirely the upper part of the face. 

I ought to have spoke first, that is certain; but 
ere I could get my phrases well arranged, the young 
lady, rendered desperate, I suppose, by my hesitation, 
opened the conversation herself. 

“Tfear I am an intruder, sir—I expected to 
meet an elderly gentleman.” 

This brought me tomyself. “My father, madam, 
perhaps. But you enquired for Alan Fairford — 
my father’s name is Alexander.” 


116 REDGAUNTLET. 


“Tt is Mr. Alan Fairford, undoubtedly, with 
whom I wished to speak,” she said, with greater 
confusion ; “but I was told that he was advanced 
in life.” 

“Some mistake, madam, I presume, betwixt my 
father and myself — our Christian names have the 
same initials, though the terminations are different, 
— I—I—I would esteem it a most fortunate mis- 
take if I could have the honour of supplying my 
father’s place in any thing that could be of service 
to you.” 

“You are very obliging, sir.” A pause, during 
which she seemed undetermined whether to rise or 
sit still. 

“Tam just about to be called to the bar, madam,” 
said I, in hopes to remove her scruples to open her 
case to me; “and if my advice or opinion could be 
of the slightest use, although I cannot presume to 
say that they are much to be depended upon, 

et 99 
The lady arose. “I am truly sensible of your 
kindness, sir; and I have no doubt of your talents. 
I will be very plain with you—it 7s you whom I 
came to visit; although, now that we have met, I 
find it will be much better that I should commit my 
communication to writing.” 

“T hope, madam, you will not be so cruel —so 
tantalizing, I would say. Consider, you are my first 
client — your business my first consultation — do not 
do me the displeasure of withdrawing your confi- 
dence because I am a few years younger than you 
seem to have expected — My attention shall make 
amends for my want of experience.” 

“J have no doubt of either,’ said the lady, in 
a grave tone, calculated to restrain the air of 





REDGAUNTLET. 117 


gallantry with which I had endeavoured to address 
her. “But when you have received my letter, you 
will find good reasons assigned why a written com- 
munication will best suit my purpose. I wish you, 
sir, a good morning.” And she left the apartment, 
her poor baffled counsel scraping, and bowing, and 
apologizing for any thing that might have been dis- 
agreeable to her, although the front of my offence 
seems to be my having been discovered to be younger 
than my father. 

The door was opened — out she went — walked 
along the pavement, turned down the close, and 
put the sun, I believe, into her pocket when she dis- 
appeared, so suddenly did dulness and darkness sink 
down on the square, when she was no longer visible. 
I stood for a moment as if I had been senseless, 
not recollecting what a fund of entertainment I 
must have supplied to our watchful friends on the 
other side of the green. Then it darted on my 
mind that I might dog her, and ascertain at least 
who or what she was. Off I set —ran down the 
close where she was no longer to be seen, and 
demanded of one of the dyer’s lads whether he had 
seen a lady go down the close, or had observed which 
way she turned. 

“A leddy !” — said the dyer, staring at me with 
his rainbow countenance. “Mr. Alan, what takes 
you out, rinning like daft, without your hat?” 

“The devil take my hat!” answered I, running 
back, however, in quest of it; snatched it up, and 
again sallied forth. But as I reached the head of 
the close once more, I had sense enough to recol- 
lect that all pursuit would be now in vain. Besides, 
I saw my friend, the journeyman dyer, in close con- 
fabulation with a pea-green personage of his own 


118 REDGAUNTLET. 


profession, and was conscious, like Scrub, that they 
talked of me, because they laughed consumedly. I 
had no mind, by a second sudden appearance, to con- 
firm the report that Advocate Fairford was “gaen 
daft,” which had probably spread from Campbell’s 
close-foot to the Mealmarket Stairs; and so slunk 
back within my own hole again. 

My first employment was to remove all traces 
of that elegant and fanciful disposition of my effects, 
from which I had hoped for so much credit; for I 
was now ashamed and angry at having thought an 
instant upon the mode of receiving a visit which 
had commenced so agreeably, but terminated in a 
manner so unsatisfactory. I put my folios in their 
places — threw the foils into the dressing-closet — 
tormenting myself all the while with the fruitless 
doubt, whether I had missed an opportunity or 
escaped a stratagem, or whether the young person 
had been really startled, as she seemed to intimate, 
by the extreme youth of her intended legal adviser. 
The mirror was not unnaturally called in to aid; 
and that cabinet-counsellor pronounced me rather 
short, thick-set, with a cast of features fitter, I trust, 
for the bar than the ball — not handsome enough for 
blushing virgins to pine for my sake, or even to 
invent sham cases to bring them to my chambers 
—yet not ugly enough, either, to scare those away 
who came on real business — dark, to be sure, but 
nigri sunt hyacintht — there are pretty things to be 
said in favour of that complexion. 

At length — as common sense will get the better 
in all cases, when a man will but give it fair play 
— | began to stand convicted in my own mind, as 
an ass before the interview, for having expected 
too much — an ass during the interview, for having 


REDGAUNTLET. 11g 


failed to extract the lady’s real purpose — and an 
especial ass, now that it was over, for thinking so 
much about it. But I can think of nothing else, 
and therefore I am determined to think of this to 
some good purpose. 

You remember Murtough O’Hara’s defence of 
the Catholic doctrine of confession ; because, ‘by 
his soul, his sins were always a great burden to his 
mind, till he had told them to the priest; and once 
confessed, he never thought more about them.” [I 
have tried his receipt, therefore ; and having poured 
my secret mortification into thy trusty ear, I will 
think no more about this maid of the mist, 


‘¢ Who, with no face, as ’twere, outfaced me.” 


Four o’clock. 
Plague on her green mantle, she can be nothing 
better than a fairy ; she keeps possession of my head 
yet! All during dinner-time I was terribly absent ; 
but, luckily, my father gave the whole credit of my 
reverie to the abstract nature of the doctrine, Vinco 
vincentem, ergo vinco te; upon which brocard of 
law the Professor this morning lectured. So I got 
an early dismissal to my own crib, and here am I 
studying, in one sense, vincere vincentem, to get the 
better of the silly passion of curiosity —I think — I 
think it amounts to nothing else — which has taken 
such possession of my imagination, and is perpet- 
ually worrying me with the question — will she 
write or no? She will not — she will not! So says 
Reason, and adds, Why should she take the trouble 
to enter into correspondence with one, who, instead 
of a bold, alert, prompt gallant, proved a chicken- 
hearted boy, and left her the whole awkwardness 





120 REDGAUNTLET. 


of explanation, which he should have met half-way ? 
But then, says Fancy, she will write, for she was 
not a bit that sort of person whom you, Mr. Reason, 
in your wisdom, take her to be. She was discon- 
certed enough, without my adding to her distress 
by any impudent conduct on my part. And she 
will write, for | 

By Heaven, she HAS written, Darsie, and with 
a vengeance ! — Here is her letter, thrown into the 
kitchen by a cadie, too faithful to be bribed, either 
by money or whisky, to say more than that he 
received it, with sixpence, from an ordinary-looking 
woman, as he was plying on his station near the 
Cross. 





‘‘¥OR ALAN FAIRFORD, ESQUIRE, BARRISTER. 


‘¢ Sir, — Excuse my mistake of to-day. I had acci- 
dentally learned that Mr. Darsie Latimer had an 
intimate friend and associate in a Mr. A. Fairford. 
When I enquired for such a person, he was pointed out 
to me at the Cross, (as I think the Exchange of your 
city is called,) in the character of a respectable elderly 
man — your father, as | now understand. On enquiry 
at Brown’s Square, where I understood he resided, 
I used the full name of Alan, which naturally occa- 
sioned you the trouble of this day’s visit. Upon fur- 
ther enquiry, I am led to believe that you are likely 
to be the person most active in the matter to which I 
am now about to direct your attention ; and I regret 
much that circumstances, arising out of my own par- 
ticular situation, prevent my communicating to you 
personally what I now apprize you of in this manner. 
‘‘Your friend, Mr. Darsie Latimer, is in a situation 
of considerable danger. You are doubtless aware, that 
he has been cautioned not to trust himself in England 


REDGAUNTLET. toe 


— Now, if he has not absolutely transgressed this 
friendly injunction, he has at least approached as 
nearly to the menaced danger as he could do, consist- 
ently with the letter of the prohibition. He has 
chosen his abode in a neighbourhood very perilous to 
him ; and it is only by a speedy return to Edinburgh, 
or at least by a removal to some more remote part of 
Scotland, that he can escape the machinations of those 
whose enmity he has to fear. I must speak in mystery, 
but my words are not the less certain ; and, I believe, 
you know enough of your friend’s fortunes to be aware, 
that I could not write this much without being even 
more intimate with them than you are. 

‘‘If he cannot, or will not, take the advice here 
given, it is my opinion that you should join him, if 
possible, without delay, and urge, by your personal 
presence and entreaty, the arguments which may prove 
ineffectual in writing. One word more, and I implore 
of your candour to take it as it is meant. No one sup- 
poses that Mr. Fairford’s zeal in his friend’s service, 
needs to be quickened by mercenary motives. But 
report says that Mr. Alan Fairford not having yet 
entered on his professional career, may, in such a case 
as this, want the means, though he cannot want the 
inclination, to act with promptitude. The enclosed 
note, Mr. Alan Fairford must be pleased to consider as 
his first professional emolument ; and she who sends it 
hopes it will be the omen of unbounded success, though 
the fee comes from a hand so unknown as that of 

‘(GREEN MANTLE.”’ 


A bank note of L.20 was the enclosure, and the 
whole incident left me speechless with astonish- 
ment. Jam not able to read over the beginning of 
my own letter, which forms the introduction to this 
extraordinary communication. I only know that, 
though mixed with a quantity of foolery, (God 


122 REDGAUNTLET. 


knows, very much different from my present feel- 
ings,) it gives an account sufficiently accurate, of the 
mysterious person from whom this letter comes, and 
that I have neither time nor patience to separate 
the absurd commentary from the text, which it is 
so necessary you should know. 

Combine this warning, so strangely conveyed, with 
the caution impressed on you by your London corre- 
spondent, Griffiths, against your visiting England — 
with the character of your Laird of the Solway 
Lakes — with the lawless habits of the people on 
that frontier country, where warrants are not easily 
executed, owing to the jealousy entertained by either 
country of the legal interference of the other; 
remember, that even Sir John Fielding said to my 
father, that he could never trace a rogue beyond 
the Briggend of Dumfries — think that the distinc- 
tions of Whig and Tory, Paptist and Protestant, 
still keep that country in a loose and comparatively 
lawless state — think of all this, my dearest Darsie, 
and remember that, while at this Mount Sharon of 
yours, you are residing with a family actually 
menaced with forcible interference, and who, while 
their obstinacy provokes violence, are by principle 
bound to abstain from resistance. 

Nay, let me tell you, professionally, that the 
legality of the mode of fishing practised by your 
friend Joshua, is greatly doubted by our best 
lawyers ; and that, if the stake-nets be considered 
as actually an unlawful obstruction raised in the 
channel of the estuary,an assembly of persons who 
shall proceed, via facti, to pull down and destroy 
them, would not, in the eye of the law, be esteemed 
guilty of a riot. So, by remaining where you are, 
you are likely to be engaged in a quarrel with 


REDGAUNTLET. 123 


which you have nothing to do, and thus to enable 
your enemies, whoever these may be, to execute, 
amid the confusion of a general hubbub, whatever 
designs they may have against your personal safety. 
Black-fishers, poachers, and smugglers, are a sort of 
gentry that will not be much checked, either by 
your Quakeyr’s texts, or by your chivalry. If you 
are Don Quixote enough to lay lance in rest, in 
defence of those of the stake-net, and of the sad- 
coloured garment, I pronounce you but a lost 
knight; for, as I said before, I doubt if these 
potent redressers of wrongs, the justices and con- 
stables, will hold themselves warranted to interfere. 
In a word, return, my dear Amadis; the adventure 
of the Solway-nets is not reserved for your worship. 
Come back, and I will be your faithful Sancho 
Panza upon a more hopeful quest. We will beat 
about together, in search of this Urganda, the 
Unknown She of the Green Mantle, who can read 
this, the riddle of thy fate, better than wise Eppie 
of Buckhaven,! or Cassandra herself. 

I would fain trifle, Darsie; for in debating with 
you, jests will sometimes go farther than areu- 
ments ; but I am sick at heart, and cannot keep the 
ball up. If you have a moment’s regard for the 
friendship we have so often vowed to each other, 
let my wishes for once prevail over your own ven- 
turous and romantic temper. Iam quite serious in 
thinking, that the information communicated to my 
father by this Mr. Herries, and the admonitory 
letter of the young lady, bear upon each other; 
and that, were you here, you might learn something 
from one or other, or from both, that might throw 


1 Well known in the Chap-Book, called the History of 
Buckhaven. 


124 REDGAUNTLET. 


light on your birth and parentage. You will not, 
surely, prefer an idle whim to the prospect which 
is thus held out to you? 

I would, agreeably to the hint I have received 
in the young lady’s letter, (for I am confident that 
such is her condition,) have ere now been with you 
to urge these things, instead of pouring them out 
upon paper. But you know that the day for my 
trial is appointed; I have already gone through 
the form of being introduced to the examinators, 
and have gotten my titles assigned me. All this 
should not keep me at home, but my father would 
view any irregularity upon this occasion as a mortal 
blow to the hopes which he has cherished most 
fondly during his life; viz. my being called to the 
bar with some credit. For my own part, 1 know 
there is no great difficulty in passing these formal 
examinations, else how have some of our acquaint- 
ance got through them? But, to my father, these 
formalities compose an august and serious solem- 
nity, to which he has long looked forward, and my 
absenting myself at this moment would wellnigh 
drive him distracted. Yet I shall go altogether 
distracted myself, if I have not an instant assurance 
from you that you are hastening hither — Mean- 
while I have desired Hannah to get your little crib 
into the best order possible. I cannot learn that my 
father has yet written to you; nor has he spoken 
more of his communication with Birrenswork ; but 
when I let him have some inkling of the dangers 
you are at present incurring, 1 know my request 
that you will return immediately, will have his 
cordial support. 

Another reason yet—-I must give a dinner, as 
usual, upon my admission, to our friends; and my 


REDGAUNTLET. 125 


father, laying aside all his usual considerations of 
economy, has desired it may be in the best style 
possible. Come hither then, dear Darsie! or, I 
protest to you, I shall send examination, admission- 
dinner, and guests, to the devil, and come, in 
person, to fetch you with a vengeance. Thine, in 


much anxiety, 
A. F. 


LETTER JX. 


ALEXANDER FAIRFORD, W.S., TO MR. DARSIE 
LATIMER. 


Dear Mr. Darstz,— Having been your factor loco | 
tutoris, or rather, I ought to say, in correctness, | 
(since I acted without warrant from the Court,) 
your negotiorum gestor ; that connexion occasions 
my present writing. And although having ren- 
dered an account of my intromissions, which have 
been regularly approved of, not only by yourself, 
(whom I could not prevail upon to look at more 
than the docket and sum total,) but also by the 
worthy Mr. Samuel Griffiths of London, being the 
hand through whom the remittances were made, I 
may, in some sense, be considered as to you functus 
officio; yet, to speak facetiously, I trust you will 
not hold me accountable as a vicious intromitter, 
should I still consider myself as occasionally inter- 
ested in your welfare. My motives for writing, at 
this time, are twofold. 

I have met with a Mr. Herries of Birrenswork, a 
gentleman of very ancient descent, but who hath in 
time past been in difficulties, nor do I know if his 
affairs are yet well redd. Birrenswork says, that 
he believes he was very familiar with your father, 
whom he states to have been called Ralph Latimer 
of Langcote-Hall, in Westmoreland; and he men- 
tioned family affairs, which it may be of the highest 


REDGAUNTLET. 127 


importance to you to be acquainted with ; but as he 
seemed to decline communicating them to me, I 
could not civilly urge him thereanent. Thus much 
I know, that Mr. Herries had his own share in the 
late desperate and unhappy matter of 1745, and 
was in trouble about it, although that is probably 
now over. Moreover, although he did not profess 
the Popish religion openly, he had an eye that way. 
And both of these are reasons why I have hesitated 
to recommend him to a youth who maybe hath not 
altogether so well founded his opinions concerning 
Kirk and State, that they might not be changed by 
some sudden wind of doctrine. For I have observed 
ye, Master Darsie, to be rather tinctured with the 
old leaven of prelacy —this under your leave; and 
although God forbid that you should be in any man- 
ner disaffected to the Protestant Hanoverian line, 
yet ye have ever loved to hear the blawing, bleez- 
ing stories which the Hieland gentlemen tell of 
those troublous times, which, if it were their will, 
they had better pretermit, as tending rather to 
shame than to honour. Jt is come to me also by 
a side-wind, as I may say, that you have been neigh- 
bouring more than was needful among some of the 
pestilent sect of Quakers —a people who own neither 
priest, nor king, nor civil magistrate, nor the fabric 
of our law, and will not depone either in civilibus or 
ereminalibus, be the loss to the lieges what it may. 
Anent which heresies, it were good ye read “the 
Snake in the Grass,” or ‘‘the Foot out of the 
Snare,” being both well-approved tracts touching 
these doctrines. 

Now, Mr. Darsie, ye are to judge for yourself 
whether ye can safely to your soul’s weal remain 
longer among these Papists and Quakers, — these 


128 REDGAUNTLET. 


defections on the right hand, and fallings away on 
the left; and truly if you can confidently resist these 
evil examples of doctrine, I think ye may as well 
tarry in the bounds where ye are, until you see Mr. 
Herries of Birrenswork, who does assuredly know 
more of your matters than I thought had been com- 
municated to any man in Scotland. I would fain 
have precognosced him myself on these affairs, but 
found him unwilling to speak out, as I have partly 
intimated before. 

To call a new cause —I have the pleasure to tell 
you, that Allan has passed his private Scots Law 
examinations with good approbation —a great relief 
to my mind; especially as worthy Mr. Pest told 
me in my ear there was no fear of the “callant,” - 
as he familiarly called him, which gives me great 
heart. His public trials, which are nothing in com- 
parison save a mere form, are to take place, by order 
of the Honourable Dean of Faculty, on Wednesday 
first; and on Friday he puts on the gown, and gives 
a bit chack of dinner to his friends and acquaint- 
ances, as is, you know, the custom. Your company 
will be wished for there, Master Darsie, by more 
than him, which I regret to think is impossible to 
have, as well by your engagements, as that our 
cousin, Peter Fairford, comes from the west on pur- 
pose, and we have no place to offer him but your 
chamber in the wall. And, to be plain with you, 
after my use and wont, Master Darsie, it may be as 
well that Alan and you do not meet till he is hefted 
as it were to his new calling. You are a pleasant 
gentleman, and full of daffing, which may well 
become you, as you have enough (as I understand) 
to uphold your merry humour. If you regard the 
matter wisely, you would perchance consider that a 


REDGAUNTLET. 129 


man of substance should have a douce and staid 
demeanour; yet you are so far from growing grave 
and considerate with the increase of your annual 
income, that the richer you become, the merrier I 
think you grow. But this must be at your own 
pleasure, so far as you are concerned. Alan, how- 
ever, (overpassing my small savings,) has the world 
to win; and louping and laughing, as you and he 
were wont to do, would soon make the powder flee 
out of his wig, and the pence out of his pocket. 
Nevertheless, I trust you will meet when you return 
from your rambles; for there is a time, as the wise 
man sayeth, for gathering, and a time for casting 
away; it is always the part of a man of sense to 
take the gathering time first. I remain, dear sir, 
your well-wishing friend, and obedient to command, 
ALEXANDER FAIRFORD. 


P.S. — Alan’s Thesis is upon the title De periculo 
et commodo rei vendite, and is a very pretty piece of 
Latinity. — Ross-House, in our neighbourhood, is 
nearly finished, and is thought to excel Duff-House 
in ornature. 


VOL. I.—9 


LETTER X. 
DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD. 


Tue plot thickens, Alan. I have your letter, 
and also one from your father. The last makes it 
impossible for me to comply with the kind request 
which the former urges. No—TI cannot be with 
you, Alan; and that, for the best of all reasons — 
I cannot and ought not to counteract your father’s 
anxious wishes. I do not take it unkind of him 
that he desires my absence. It is natural that he 
should wish for his son, what his son so well 
deserves — the advantage of a wiser and steadier 
companion than I seem to him. And yet I amsure 
I have often laboured hard enough to acquire that 
decency of demeanour which can no more be sus- 
pected of breaking bounds, than an owl of catching 
a butterfly. 

But it was in vain that I have knitted my brows 
till I had the headache, in order to acquire the 
reputation of a grave, solid, and well-judging youth. 
Your father always has discovered, or thought that 
he discovered, a harebrained eccentricity lying folded 
among the wrinkles of my forehead, which rendered 
me a perilous associate for the future counsellor 
and ultimate judge. Well, Corporal Nym’s philoso- 
phy must be my comfort—“Things must be as 
they may.” — I cannot come to your father’s house, 
where he wishes not to see me; and as to your 


REDGAUNTLET. 131 


coming hither, — by all that is dear to me, I vow 
that if you are guilty of such a piece of reckless 
folly —not to say undutiful cruelty, considering 
your father’s thoughts and wishes —I will never 
speak to you again as long asI live! I am perfectly 
serious. And besides, your father, while he in a 
manner prohibits me from returning to Edinburgh, 
gives me the strongest reasons for continuing a little 
while longer in this country, by holding out the 
hope that I may receive from your old friend, Mr. 
Herries of Birrenswork, some particulars concerning 
my origin, with which that ancient recusant seems 
to be acquainted. 

That gentleman mentioned the name of a family 
in Westmoreland, with which he supposes me con- 
nected. My enquiries here after such a family have 
been ineffectual, for the borderers, on either side, 
know little of each other. But I shall doubtless 
find some English person of whom to make enquiries, 
since the confounded fetterlock clapped on my 
movements by old Griffiths, prevents me repairing 
to England in person. At least, the prospect of 
obtaining some information is greater here than 
elsewhere; it will be an apology for my making 
a longer stay in this neighbourhood, a line of con- 
duct which seems to have your father’s sanction, 
whose opinion must be sounder than that of your 
wandering damoiselle. 

If the road were paved with dangers which leads 
to such a discovery, I cannot for a moment hesitate 
to tread it. But in fact there is no peril in the 
case. If the Tritons of the Solway shall proceed 
to pull down honest Joshua’s tide-nets, [am neither 
Quixote enough in disposition, nor Goliath enough 
in person, to attempt their protection. I have no 


132 REDGAUNTLET. 


idea of attempting to prop a falling house, by 
putting my shoulders against it. And indeed 
Joshua gave me a hint, that the company which 
he belongs to, injured in the way threatened, (some 
of them being men who thought after the fashion 
of the world,) would pursue the rioters at law, and 
recover damages, in which probably his own ideas 
of non-resistance will not prevent his participating. 
Therefore the whole affair will take its course as 
law will, as I only mean to interfere when it may 
be necessary to direct the course of the plaintiffs 
to thy chambers; and I request they may find 
thee intimate with all the Scottish statutes con- 
cerning salmon-fisheries, from the Lex <Aquarum, 
downward. 

As for the Lady of the Mantle, I will lay a wager 
that the sun so bedazzled thine eyes on that memo- 
rable morning, that every thing thou didst look 
upon seemed green; and notwithstanding James 
Wilkinson’s experience in the Fusileers, as well as 
his negative whistle, I will venture to hold a crown 
that she is but a what-shall-call’um after all. Let 
not even the gold persuade you to the contrary. 
She may make a shift to cause you to disgorge that, 
and (immense spoil !) a session’s fees to boot, if you 
look not all the sharper about you. Or if it should 
be otherwise, and if indeed there lurk some mystery 
under this visitation, credit me, it is one which thou 
canst not penetrate, nor can I as yet even attempt 
to explain it; since, if I prove mistaken, and mis- 
taken I may easily be, I would be fain to creep 
into Phalaris’s bull, were it standing before me 
ready heated, rather than be roasted with thy rail- 
lery. Do not tax me with want of confidence; for 
the instant I can throw any light on the matter 


REDGAUNTLET, 133 


thou shalt have it; but while I am only blundering 
about in the dark, I do not choose to call wise folks 
to see me, perchance, break my nose against a post. 
So if you marvel at this, 


‘¢ H’en marvel on till time makes all things plain.” 


In the meantime, kind Alan, let me proceed in 
my diurnal. 

On the third or fourth day after my arrival at 
Mount Sharon, Time, that bald sexton to whom I 
have just referred you, did certainly limp more 
heavily along with me than he had done at first. 
The quaint morality of Joshua, and Huguenot sim- 
plicity of his sister, began to lose much of their 
raciness with their novelty, and my mode of life, by 
dint of being very quiet, began to feel abominably 
dull. It was, as thou say’st, as if the Quakers had 
put the sun in their pockets — all around was soft 
and mild, and even pleasant ; but there was, in the 
whole routine, a uniformity, a want of intcrest, a 
helpless and hopeless languor, which rendered life 
insipid. No doubt, my worthy host and hostess felt 
none of this void, this want of excitation, which was 
becoming oppressive to their guest. They had their 
little round of occupations, charities, and pleasures ; 
Rachel had her poultry-yard and conservatory, and 
Joshua his garden. Besides this, they enjoyed, 
doubtless, their devotional meditations ; and, on the 
whole, time glided softly and imperceptibly on with 
them, though to me, who long for stream and cata- 
ract, it seemed absolutely to stand still. I meditated 
returning to Shepherd’s Bush, and began to think, 
with some hankering, after little Benjie and the 
rod. The imp has ventured hither, and hovers 


134 REDGAUNTLET. 


about to catch a peep of me now and then; I sup- 
pose the little sharper is angling for a few more 
sixpences. But this would have been, in Joshua’s 
eyes, a return of the washed sow to wallowing in 
the mire, and I resolved, while I remained his guest, 
to spare him so violent a shock to his prejudices. 
The next point was, to shorten the time of my 
proposed stay; but, alas! that I felt to be equally 
impossible. I had named a week; and however 
rashly my promise had been pledged, it must be 
held sacred, even according to the letter, from which 
the Friends permit no deviation. 

All these considerations wrought me up to a 
kind of impatience yesterday evening; so that I 
snatched up my hat, and prepared fora sally beyond 
the cultivated farm and ornamented grounds of 
Mount Sharon, just as if I were desirous to escape 
from the realms of art, into those of free and uncon- 
strained nature. 

I was scarcely more delighted when I first entered 
this peaceful demesne, than I now was — such is the 
instability and inconsistency of human nature ! — 
when I escaped from it to the open downs, which 
had formerly seemed so waste and dreary. The air 
I breathed felt purer and more bracing. The clouds, 
riding high upon a summer breeze, drove, in gay 
succession, over my head, now obscuring the sun, 
now letting its rays stream in transient flashes upon 
various parts of the landscape, and especially upon 
the broad mirror of the distant Frith of Solway. 

J advanced on the scene with the light step of a 
liberated captive; and, like John Bunyan’s Pil- 
grim, could have found in my heart to sing as I 
went on my way. It seemed asif my gaiety had 
accumulated while suppressed, and that I was, in 


REDGAUNTLET. 135 


my present joyous mood, entitled to expend the 
savines of the previous week. But just as I was 
about to uplift a merry stave, I heard, to my joyful 
surprise, the voices of three or more choristers, sing- 
ing, with considerable success, the lively old catch, 


‘¢ For all our men were very very merry, 
And all our men were drinking : 

There were two men of mine, 

Three men of thine, 

And three that belong’d to old Sir Thom o’ Lyne ; 

As they went to the ferry, they were very very merry, 
And all our men were drinking.” 1 


As the chorus ended, there followed a loud and 
hearty laugh by way ofcheers. Attracted by sounds 
which were so congenial to my present feelings, I 
made towards the spot from which they came, — 
cautiously however, for the downs, as had been 
repeatedly hinted to me, had no good name ; and the 
attraction of the music, without rivalling that of 
the Syrens in melody, might have been followed by 


1 The original of this catch is to be found in Cowley’s witty 
comedy of the Guardian, the first edition. It does not exist 
in the second and revised edition, called the Cutter of Coleman 
Street. 


“CAPTAIN BLADE. Ha, ha, boys, another catch. 
And all our men were very very merry, 
And all our men were drinking. 

CurTER. One man of mone. 

DoGREL. Two men of mine. 

BiaDE. Three men of mine. 

CuTTER. And one man of mine. 


Omnes. As we went by the way we were drunk, drunk, damnably 
drunk. 


And all our men were very very merry, gc.” 


Such are the words, which are somewhat altered and amplified 
in the text. The play was acted in presence of Charles II., then 
Prince of Wales, in 1641. The catch in the text has been happily 
set to music. 


136 REDGAUNTLET. 


similarly inconvenient consequences to an incautious 
amateur. 

I crept on, therefore, trusting that the sinuosities 
of the ground, broken as it was into knolls and 
sand-pits, would permit me to obtain a sight of the 
musicians before I should be observed by them. 
As I advanced, the old ditty was again raised. The 
voices seemed those of a man and two boys; they 
were rough, but kept good time, and were managed 
with too much skill to belong to the ordinary coun- 
try people. 


“‘ Jack look’d at the sun, and cried, Fire, fire, fire; 
Jem stabled his keffel in Birkendale mire; 
Tom startled a calf, and halloo’d for a stag; 
Will mounted a gate-post instead of his nag: 
For all our men were very very merry, 
And all our men were drinking ; 
There were two men of mine, 
Three men of thine, 
And three that belong’d to old Sir Thom o’ Lyne; 
As they went to the ferry they were very very merry, 
For all our men were drinking.” 


The voices, as they mixed in their several parts, 
and ran through them, untwisting and again entwin- 
ing all the links of the merry old catch, seemed 
to have a little touch of the bacchanalian spirit 
which they celebrated, and showed plainly that the 
musicians were engaged in the same joyous revel 
as the menyte of old Sir Thom o’ Lyne. At length 
I came within sight of them, three in number, 
where they sat cosily niched into what you might 
call a bunker, a little sand-pit, dry and snug, and 
surrounded by its banks, and a screen of whins in 
full bloom. 

The only one of the trio whom I recognised as a 


REDGAUNTLET. 137 


personal acquaintance was the notorious little Benjie, 
who, having just finished his stave, was cramming 
a huge luncheon of pie-crust into his mouth with 
one hand, while in the other he held a foaming 
tankard, his eyes dancing with all the glee of a for- 
bidden revel; and his features, which have at all 
times a mischievous archness of expression, con- 
fessing the full sweetness of stolen waters, and bread 
eaten in secret. 

There was no mistaking the profession of the 
male and female, who were partners with Benjie in 
these merry doings. The man’s long loose-bodied 
great-coat, (wrap-rascal as the vulgar term it,) the 
fiddle-case, with its straps, which lay beside him, 
and a small knapsack which might contain his few 
necessaries; a clear grey eye; features which, in 
contending with many a storm, had not lost a wild 
and careless expression of glee, animated at present, 
when he was exercising for his own pleasure the 
arts which he usually practised for bread, — all 
announced one of those peripatetic followers of 
Orpheus, whom the vulgar call a strolling fiddler. 
Gazing more attentively, I easily discovered that 
though the poor musician’s eyes were open, their 
sense was shut, and that the ecstasy with which he 
turned them up to Heaven, only derived its appa- 
rent expression from his own internal emotions, 
but received no assistance from the visible objects 
around. Beside him sat his female companion, in a 
man’s hat, a blue coat, which seemed also to have 
been an article of male apparel, and a red petticoat. 
She was cleaner, in person and in clothes, than such 
itinerants generally are; and, having been in her 
day a strapping bona roba, she did not even yet 
neglect some attention to her appearance; wore a 


¥ 


138 REDGAUNTLET. 


large amber necklace, and silver ear-rings, and had 
her plaid fastened across her breast with a brooch 
of the same metal. 

The man also looked clean, notwithstanding the 
meanness of his attire, and hada decent silk hand- 
kerchief well knotted about his throat, under which 
peeped a clean owrelay. His beard, also, instead of 
displaying a grizzly stubble, unmowed for several 
days, flowed in thick and comely abundance over 
the breast, to the length of six inches, and mingled 
with his hair, which was but beginning to exhibit 
a touch of age. To sum up his appearance, the 
loose garment which I have described, was secured 
around him by a large old-fashioned belt, with brass 
studs, in which hung a dirk, with a knife and fork, 
its usual accompaniments. Altogether, there was 
something more wild and adventurous-looking about 
the man, than I could have expected to see in an 
ordinary modern crowder; and the bow which he 
now and then drew across the violin, to direct his 
little choir, was decidedly that of no ordinary 
performer. 

You must understand, that many of these obser- 
vations were the fruits of after remark; for I had 
scarce approached so near as to get a distinct view 
of the party, when my friend Benjie’s lurching 
attendant, which he calls by the appropriate name 
of Hemp, began to cock his tail and ears, and, sen- 
sible of my presence, flew, barking lke a fury, to 
the place where I had meant to lie concealed till I 
heard another song. I was obliged, however, to 
jump on my feet, and intimidate Hemp, who would 
otherwise have bit me, by two sound kicks on the 
ribs, which sent him howling back to his master. 

Little Benjie seemed somewhat dismayed at my 


REDGAUNTLET. 139 


appearance; but, calculating on my placability, and 
remembering, perhaps, that the ill-used Solomon 
was no palfrey of mine, he speedily affected great 
glee, and almost in one breath assured the itinerants 
that I was “a grand gentleman, and had plenty 
of money, and was very kind to poor folk;” and 
informed me that this was “ Willie Steenson — 
Wandering Willie—the best fiddler that ever 
kittled thairm with horse-hair.” 

The woman rose and curtsied; and Wandering 
Willie sanctioned his own praises with a nod, and 
the ejaculation, “ All is true that the little boy says.” 

I asked him if he was of this country. 

“ This country !”’ replied the bind man —“ I am 
of every country in broad Scotland, and a wee bit 
of England to the boot. But yet I am, in some 
sense, of this country ; for I was born within hear- 
ing of the roar of Solway. Will I give your honour 
a touch of the auld bread-winner ? ” 

He preluded as he spoke, in a manner which 
really excited my curiosity; and then taking the 
old tune of Galashiels for his theme, he graced it 
with a number of wild, complicated, and beautiful 
variations; during which, it was wonderful to 
observe how his sightless face was lighted up under 
the conscious pride and heartfelt delight in the 
exercise of his own very considerable powers. 

“What think you of that, now, for threescore 
and twa?” 

I expressed my surprise and pleasure. 

“A rant, man—an auld rant,” said Willie; 
“naething like the music ye hae in your ball- 
houses and your playhouses in Edinbro’; but it’s 
weel aneugh anes in a way at a dike-side. — Here’s 
another — it’s no a Scots tune, but it passes for ane 


140 REDGAUNTLET. 


— Oswald made it himsell, I reckon — he has 
cheated mony ane, but he canna cheat Wandering 
Willie.” 

He then played your favourite air of Roslin 
Castle, with a number of beautiful variations, some 
of which I am certain were almost extempore. 

“You have another fiddle there, my friend,” said 
I—“Have you acomrade?” But Willie’s ears were 
deaf, or his attention was still busied with the tune. 

The female replied in his stead, “O ay, sir— 
troth we have a partner — a gangrel body like our- 
sells. No but my hinny might have been better if 
he had liked; for mony a bein nook in mony a 
braw house has been offered to my hinny Wille, if 
he wad but just bide still and play to the gentles.” 

“Whisht, woman! whisht!” said the blind man, 
angrily, shaking his locks ; “dinna deave the gen- 
tleman wi your havers. Stay in a house and play 
to the gentles !— strike up when my leddy pleases, 
and lay down the bow when my lord bids! Na, na, 
that’s nae life for Willie. — Look out, Maggie — 
peer out, woman, and see if ye can see Robin com- 
ing. — Deil be in him! he has got to the lea-side of 
some smuggler’s punch-bowl, and he wunna budge 
the night, I doubt.” 

“That is your consort’s instrument,” said I[— 
“Will you give me leave to try my skill?” I 
slipped at the same time a shilling into the woman’s 
hand. 

“T dinna ken whether I dare trust Robin’s fiddle 
to ye,’ said Willie, bluntly. His wife gave him a 
twitch. “Hout awa, Maggie,” he said, in con- 
tempt of the hint; “though the gentleman may 
hae gien ye siller, he may have nae bow-hand for 
a’ that, and Pll no trust Robin’s fiddle wi’ an igno- 


REDGAUNTLET. 141 


ramus. — But that’s no sae muckle amiss,” he added, 
as I began to touch the instrument; “I am think- 
ing ye have some skill o’ the craft.” 

To confirm him in this favourable opinion, I 
began to execute such a complicated flourish as I 
thought must have turned Crowdero into a pillar of 
stone with envy and wonder. I scaled the top of 
the finger-board, to dive at once to the bottom — 
skipped with flying fingers, like Timotheus, from 
shift to shift — struck arpeggios and harmonic 
tones, but without exciting any of the astonishment 
which I had expected. 

Wille indeed listened to me with considerable 
attention; but I was no sooner finished, than he 
immediately mimicked on his own instrument the 
fantastic complication of tones which I had pro- 
duced, and made so whimsical a parody of my 
performance, that, although somewhat angry, I 
could not help laughing heartily, in which I was 
joined by Benjie, whose reverence for me held him 
under no restraint; while the poor dame, fearful, 
doubtless, of my taking offence at this familiarity, 
seemed divided betwixt her conjugal reverence for 
her Willie, and her desire to give him a hint for 
his guidance. 

At length the old man stopped of his own accord, 
and, as if he had sufficiently rebuked me by his 
mimicry, he said, “ But for a’ that, ye will play very 
weel wi’ a little practice and some gude teaching. 
But ye maun learn to put the heart into it, man — 
to put the heart into it.” 

I played an air in simpler taste, and received 
more decided approbation. 

“That's something like it, man. Od, ye are a 
clever birkie!” 


¥ 


142 REDGAUNTLET. 


The woman touched his coat again. “The gentle- 
man is a gentleman, Willie — ye maunna speak that 
gate to him, hinny.” 

“The deevil I maunna!” said Willie; “and what 
for maunna I? — If he was ten gentles, he canna 
draw a bow like me, can he?” 

“Indeed I cannot, my honest friend,” said I; 
“and if you will go with me to a house hard by, I 
would be glad to have a night with you.” 

Here I looked round, and observed Benjie 
smothering a laugh, which I was sure had mis- 
chief in it. I seized him suddenly by the ear, 
and made him confess that he was laughing at the 
thoughts of the reception which a fiddler was 
likely to get from the Quakers at Mount Sharon. 
I chucked him from me, not sorry that his mirth 
had reminded me in time of what I had for the 
moment forgotten ; and invited the itinerant to go 
with me to Shepherd’s Bush, from which I proposed 
to send word to Mr. Geddes that I should not 
return home that evening. But the minstrel 
declined this invitation also. He was engaged for 
the night, he said, to a dance in the neighbourhood, 
and vented a round execration on the laziness or 
drunkenness of his comrade, who had not appeared 
at the place of rendezvous. 

“JT will go with you instead of him,” said I, in 
a sudden whim; “and I will give you a crown to 
introduce me as your comrade.” 

“You gang instead of Rob the Rambler! My 
certie, freend, ye are no blate!” answered Wander- 
ing Willie, in a tone which announced death to 
my frolic. 

But Maggie, whom the offer of the crown had 
not escaped, began to open on that scent with a 


REDGAUNTLET. 143 


maundering sort of lecture. “O Willie! hinny 
Willie, whan will ye learn to be wise? There’s a 
crown to be win for naething but saying ae man’s 
name instead of anither. And, wae’s me! I hae 
just a shilling of this gentleman’s gieing, and a 
bodle of my ain; and ye wunna bend your will 
sae muckle as to take up the siller that’s flung 
at your feet! Ye will die the death of a cadger’s 
powney in a wreath of drift! and what can I 
do better than lie doun and die wi you? for ye 
winna let me win siller to keep either you or mysell 
leevin.” | 

“Haud your nonsense tongue, woman,” said 
Willie, but less absolutely than before. “Is he a 
real gentleman, or ane of the player-men ?” 

“Tse uphaud him a real gentleman,” said the 
woman. 

“Tse uphaud ye ken little of the matter,’ said 
Willie; “let us see haud of your hand, neebor, 
gin ye like.” 

I gave him my hand. He said to himself, “ Ay, 
ay, here are fingers that have seen canny service.” 
Then running his hand over my hair, my face, and 
my dress, he went on with his soliloquy; “ Ay, ay, 
muisted hair, braid-claith o’ the best, and seenteen 
hundred linen on his back, at the least o’ it. — And 
how do you think, my braw birkie, that ye are to 
pass for a tramping fiddler?” 

“ My dress is plain,’ said I,—indeed I had chosen 
my most ordinary suit, out of compliment to my 
Quaker friends, — “and I can easily pass for a young 
farmer out upon a frolic. Come, I will double the 
crown I promised you.” 

“Damn your crowns!” said the disinterested 
man of music. “I would like to have a round wi’ 


‘ 


144 REDGAUNTLET. 


you, that’s certain; — but a farmer, and with a 
hand that never held pleugh-stilt or pettle, that 
will never do. Ye may pass for a trades-lad from 
Dumfries, or a student upon the ramble, or the like 
o that.— But hark ye, lad; if ye expect to be 
ranting amang the queans o’ lasses where ye are 
gaun, ye will come by the waur, I can tell ye; 
for the fishers are wild chaps, and will bide nae 
taunts.” 

I promised to be civil and cautious; and, to 
smooth the good woman, I slipped the promised 
piece into her hand. The acute organs of the blind 
man detected this little manceuvre. 

“Are ye at it again wi’ the siller, ye jaud? I'll 
be sworn ye wad rather hear ae twalpenny clink 
against another, than have a spring from Rory 
Dall,! if he was coming alive again, anes errand. 
Gang doun the gate to Lucky Gregson’s and get 
the things ye want, and bide there till ele’en hours 
in the morn; and if ye see Robin, send him on to 
me 

“ Am I no gaun to the ploy, then?” said Maggie, 
in a disappointed tone. 

“And what for should ye?” said her lord and 
master; “to dance a’ night, Tse warrant, and no 
to be fit to walk your tae’s-length the morn, and 
we have ten Scots miles afore us? Na, na. Stable 
the steed, and pit your wife to bed, when there’s 
night wark to do.” 

“ Aweel, aweel, Willie hinnie, ye ken best; but 
O, take an unco care o’ yoursell, and mind ye hae 
nae the blessing o’ sight.” 

“Your tongue gars me whiles tire of the blessing 


1 Blind Rorie, a famous performer, according to tradition. 


REDGAUNTLET. 145 


of hearing, woman,” replied Willie, in answer to this 
tender exhortation. 

But I now put in for my interest. “Hollo, good 
folks, remember that I am to send the boy to Mount 
Sharon, and if you go to the Shepherd’s Bush, hon- 
est woman, how the deuce am I to guide the blind 
man where he is going? I know little or nothing 
of the country.” 

“An ye ken mickle less of my hinnie, sir,” 
replied Maggie, “that think he needs ony guiding; 
he’s the best guide himsell, that ye’ll find between 
Criffell and Carlisle. Horse-road and footpath, 
parish-road and kirk-road, high-road and cross-road, 
he kens ilka foot of ground in Nithsdale.” 

“ Ay, ye might have said in braid Scotland, gude- 
wife,” added the fiddler. “ But gang your ways, 
Maggie, that’s the first wise word ye hae spoke the 
day. I wish it was dark night, and rain, and wind, 
for the gentleman’s sake, that I might show him 
there is whiles when ane had better want een than 
have them ; for I am as true a guide by darkness as 
by daylight.” 

Internally as well pleased that my companion was 
not put to give me this last proof of his skill, I 
wrote a note with a pencil, desiring Samuel to bring 
my horses at midnight, when I thought my frolic 
would be wellnigh over, to the place to which the 
bearer should direct him, and I sent little Benjie 
with an apology to the worthy Quakers. 

As we parted in different directions, the good 
woman said, “Oh, sir, if ye wad but ask Willie to 
tell ye ane of his tales to shorten the gate! He can 
speak like ony minister frae the pu’pit, and he might 
have been a minister himsell, but ” —— 

“Had your tongue, ye fule!” said Wille, — 

VOL. I.— 10 ¢ 


146 REDGAUNTLET. 


“ But stay, Meg —gie me a kiss, we maunna part in 
anger, neither.’ — And thus our society separated. 4 


1 It is certain that in many cases the blind have, by constant 
exercise of their other organs, learned to overcome a defect 
which one would think incapable of being supplied. Every reader 
must remember the celebrated Blind Jack of Knaresborough, who 
lived by laying out roads. ( p) 


LETTER XI. 
THE SAME TO THE SAME. 


You are now to conceive us proceeding in our 
different directions across the bare downs. Yonder . 
flies little Benjie to the northward, with Hemp 
scampering at his heels, both running as if for dear 
life, so long as the rogue is within sight of his 
employer, and certain to take the walk very easy, 
so soon as he is out of ken. Stepping westward, 
you see Maggie’s tall form and high-crowned hat, 
relieved by the fluttering of her plaid upon the left 
shoulder, darkening as the distance diminishes her 
size, and as the level sunbeams begin to sink upon 
the sea. She is taking her quiet journey to the 
Shepherd’s Bush. | 

Then, stoutly striding over the lea, you have a 
full view of Darsie Latimer, with his new acquaint- 
ance, Wandering Willie, who, bating that he touched 
the ground now and then with his staff, not in 
a doubtful groping manner, but with the confident 
air of an experienced pilot, heaving the lead when 
he has the soundings by heart, walks as firmly 
and boldly as if he possessed the eyes of Argus. 
There they go, each with his violin slung at his 
back, but one of them at least totally ignorant 
whither their course is directed. 

And wherefore did you enter so keenly into such 
a mad frolic? says my wise counsellor — Why, I 
think, upon the whole, that as a sense of loneliness, 


148 REDGAUNTLET. 


and a longing for that kindness which is inter- 
changed in society, led me to take up my temporary 
residence at Mount Sharon, the monotony of my 
life there, the quiet simplicity of the conversation 
of the Geddeses, and the uniformity of their amuse- 
ments and employments, wearied out my impatient 
temper, and prepared me for the first escapade which 
chance might throw in my way. 

What would I have given that I could have pro- 
cured that solemn grave visage of thine, to dignify 
this joke, as it has done full many a one of thine 
own! Thou hast so happy a knack of doing the 
most foolish things in the wisest manner, that thou 
mightst pass thy extravagancies for rational actions, 
even in the eyes of prudence herself. 

From the direction which my guide observed, I 
began to suspect that the dell at Brokenburn was 
our probable destination ; and it became important 
to me to consider whether I could, with propriety, 
or even perfect safety, intrude myself again upon 
the hospitality of my former host. I therefore 
asked Willie, whether we were bound for the 
Laird’s, as folk called him. 

“Do ye ken the Laird?” said Willie, interrupt- 
ing a sonata of Corelli, of which he had whistled 
several bars with great precision. 

“T know the Laird a little,” said I; “and there- 
fore, I was doubting whether I ought to go to his 
town in disguise.” 

“And I should doubt, not a little only, but a 
great deal, before I took ye there, my chap,” said 
Wandering Willie; “for I am thinking it wad be 
worth little less than broken banes baith to you and 
me. Na, na, chap, we are no ganging to the Laird’s, 
but to a blithe birling at the Brokenburn-foot, where 


REDGAUNTLET. 149 


there will be mony a braw lad and lass ; and maybe 
there may be some of the Laird’s folk, for he never 
comes to sic splores himsell. He is all for fowling- 
piece and salmon spear, now that pike and musket 
are out of the question.” 

“He has been a soldier, then?” said I. 

“T’se warrant him a soger,” answered Willie; 
“but take my advice, and speer as little about him 
as he does about you. Best to let sleeping dogs 
le. Better say naething about the Laird, my man, 
and tell me instead, what sort of a chap ye are, 
that are sae ready to cleik in with an auld gaber- 
lunzie fiddler? Maggie says ye’re gentle, but a 
shilling maks a’ the difference that Maggie kens, 
between a gentle and a semple, and your crowns 
wad mak ye a prince of the blood in her een. But 
I am ane that kens full weel that ye may wear 
good claithes, and have a saft hand, and yet that 
may come of idleness as weel as gentrice.” 

I told him my name, with the same addition I 
had formerly given to Mr. Joshua Geddes; that I 
was a law-student, tired of my studies, and rambling 
about for exercise and amusement. 

“And are ye in the wont of drawing up wi a’ 
the gangrel bodies that ye meet on the high-road, 
or find cowering in a sand-bunker upon the links?” 
demanded Wille. 

“Oh no; only with honest folks lke yourself, 
Willie,’ was my reply. 

“Honest folks hke me!—How do ye ken 
whether I am honest, or what Iam?— I may be 
the deevil himsell for what ye ken; for he has 
power to come disguised like an angel of lght; 
and besides, he is a prime fiddler. He played a 
sonata to Corelli, ye ken.” 


150 REDGAUNTLET. 


There was something odd in this speech, and the 
tone in which it was said. It seemed as if my 
companion was not always in his constant mind, or 
that he was willing to try if he could frighten me. 
I laughed at the extravagance of his language, 
however, and asked him in reply, if he was fool 
enough to believe that the foul fiend would play so 
silly a masquerade. 

“Ye ken little about it — little about it,” said the 
old man, shaking his head and beard, and knitting 
his brows — “I could tell ye something about that.” 

What his wife mentioned of his being a tale- 
teller, as well as a musician, now occurred to me; 
and as you know I like tales of superstition, I 
begged to have a specimen of his talent as we 
went along. 

“Tt is very true,” said the blind man, “that when 
I am tired of scraping thairm or singing ballants, I 
whiles make a tale serve the turn among the coun- 
try bodies; and I have some fearsome anes, that 
make the auld carlines shake on the settle, and the 
bits o’ bairns skirl on their minnies out frae their 
beds. But this that I am gaun to tell you was a 
thing that befell in our ain house in my father’s 
time — that is, my father was then a hafflins callant; 
and I tell it to you, that it may be a lesson to you, 
that are but a young, thoughtless chap, wha ye 
draw up wi’ on a lonely road; for muckle was the 
-dool and care that came o’t to my gudesire.” 

He commenced his tale accordingly, in a distinct 
narrative tone of voice, which he raised and 
depressed with considerable skill; at times sinking 
almost into a whisper, and turning his clear but 
sightless eyeballs upon my face, as if it had been 
possible for him to witness the impression which 


REDGAUNTLET. ISI 


his narrative made upon my features. I will not 
spare you a syllable of it, although it be of the 
longest; so I make a dash and begin 





WANDERING WILLIE’S TALE. 


Ye maun have heard of Sir Robert Redgauntlet of 
that Ik, who lived in these parts before the dear years. 
The country will lang mind him; and our fathers 
used to draw breath thick if ever they heard him 
named. He was out wi’ the Hielandmen in Montrose’s 
time; and again he was in the hills wi’ Glencairn (¢) 
in the saxteen hundred and fifty-twa; and sae when 
King Charles the Second came in, wha was in sic 
favour as the Laird of Redgauntlet? He was knighted 
at Lonon court, wi’ the King’s ain sword; and being 
a redhot prelatist, he came down here, rampauging like 
a lion, with commissions of lieutenancy, (and of lunacy, 
for what I ken,) to put down a’ the Whigs and Coven- 
anters in the country. Wild wark they made of it; 
for the Whigs were as dour as the Cavaliers were fierce, 
and it was which should first tire the other. Red- 
gauntlet was aye for the strong hand; and his name 
is kend as wide in the country as Claverhouse’s or 
Tam Dalyell’s. Glen, nor dargle, nor mountain, nor 
cave, could hide the puir hill-folk when Redgauntlet 
was out with bugle and bloodhound after them, as if 
they had been sae mony deer. And troth when they 
fand them, they didna mak muckle mair ceremony 
than a Hielandman wi’ a roebuck — It was just, ‘‘ Will 
ye tak the test?’’? —if not, ‘‘Make ready — present 
— fire! ’”? — and there lay the recusant. 

Far and wide was Sir Robert hated and feared. 
Men thought he had a direct compact with Satan — 
that he was proof against steel— and that bullets 
happed aff his buff-coat like hailstanes from a hearth 
—that he hada mear that would turn a hare on the 


152 REDGAUNTLET. 


side of Carrifra-gawns 1— and muckle to the same pur- 
pose, of whilk mair anon. The best blessing they 
wared on him was, ‘‘Deil scowp wi’ Redgauntlet! ”’ 
He wasna a bad maister to his ain folk though, and 
was weel aneugh liked by his tenants; and as for the 
lackies and troopers that raid out wi’ him to the persecu- 
tions, as the Whigs caa’d those killing times, they wad 
hae drunken themsells blind to his health at ony time. 

Now you are to ken that my gudesire lived on Red- 
gauntlet’s grund —they ca’ the place Primrose-Knowe. 
We had lived on the grund, and under the Redgauntlets, 
since the riding days, and lang before. It was a plea- 
sant bit; and I think the air is callerer and fresher there 
than ony whereelse in the country. It’s a’ deserted 
now; and I sat on the broken door-cheek three days 
since, and was glad I couldna see the plight the place 
was in; but that’s a’ wide o’ the mark. There dwelt 
my gudesire, Steenie Steenson, a rambling, rattling 
chiel he had been in his young days, and could play 
weel on the pipes; he was famous at ‘‘ Hoopers and 
Girders’?’ — a’ Cumberland couldna touch him at 
‘¢ Jockie Lattin’? —and he had the finest finger for the 
backlilt between Berwick and Carlisle. The like 0’ 
Steenie wasna the sort that they made Whigs 0’. And 
so he became a Tory, as they ca’ it, which we now 
ca’ Jacobites, just out of a kind of needcessity, that he 
might belang to some side or other. He had nae ill- 
will to the Whig bodies, and liked little to see the 
blude rin, though, being obliged to follow Sir Robert 
in hunting and hosting, watching and warding, he 
saw muckle mischief, and maybe did some, that he 
couldna avoid. 

Now Steenie was a kind of favourite with his master, 
and kend a’ the folks about the castle, and was often 
sent for to play the pipes when they were at their 
merriment. Auld Dougal MacCallum, the butler, 
that had followed Sir Robert through gude and ill, 


1 A precipitous side of a mountain in Moffatdale. 


REDGAUNTLET. 153 


thick and thin, pool and stream, was specially fond of 
the pipes, and aye gae my gudesire his gude word wi’ the 
Laird; for Dougal could turn his master round his 
finger. 

Weel, round came the Revolution, and it had like 
to have broken the hearts baith of Dougal and his 
master. But the change was not a’thegether sae great 
as they feared, and other folk thought for. The 
Whigs made an unco crawing what they wad do with 
their auld enemies, and in special wi’ Sir Robert 
Redgauntlet. But there were ower mony great folks 
dipped in the same doings, to mak a spick and span 
new warld. So parliament passed it a’ ower easy; and 
Sir Robert, bating that he was held to hunting foxes 
instead of Covenanters, remained just the man he was. 
His revel was as loud, and his hall as weel lighted, as 
ever it had been, though maybe he lacked the fines of 
the non-conformists, that used to come to stock his 
larder and cellar; for it is certain he began to be keener 
about the rents than his tenants used to find him 
before, and they behoved to be prompt to the rent-day, 
or else the Laird wasna pleased. And he was sic an 
awsome body, that naebody cared to anger him; for the 
oaths he swore, and the rage that he used to get into, 
and the looks that he put on, made men sometimes 
think him a devil incarnate. 

Weel, my gudesire was nae manager—no that he 
was a very great misguider — but he hadna the saving 
gift, and he got twa terms’ rent in arrear. He got the 
first brash at Whitsunday put ower wi’ fair word and 


1 The caution and moderation of King William III., and his 
principles of unlimited toleration, deprived the Cameronians of the 
opportunity they ardently desired, to retaliate the injuries which 
they had received during the reign of prelacy, and purify the 
land, as they called it, from the pollution of blood. They esteemed 
the Revolution, therefore, only a half measure, which neither com- 
prehended the rebuilding the Kirk in its full splendour, nor the 
revenge of the death of the Saints on their persecutors. 


154 REDGAUNTLET. 


piping; but when Martinmas came, there was a sum- 
mons from the grund-officer to come wi’ the rent on a 
day preceese, or else Steenie behoved to flit. Sair 
wark he had to get the siller; but he was weel-freended, 
and at last he got the haill scraped thegither—a 
thousand merks — the maist of it was from a neighbour 
they caa’d Laurie Lapraik—a sly tod. Laurie had 
walth o’ gear —could hunt wi’ the hound and rin wi’ 
the hare— and be Whig or Tory, saunt or sinner, as 
the wind stood. He was a professor in this Revolution 
warld, but he liked an orra sough of this warld; and a 
tune on the pipes weel aneugh at a bytime, and abune 
a’, he thought he had gude security for the siller he 
lent my gudesire ower the stocking at Primrose-Knowe. 

Away trots my gudesire to Redgauntlet Castle, wi’ 
a heavy purse and a light heart, glad to be out of the 
Laird’s danger. Weel, the first thing he learned at 
the Castle was, that Sir Robert had fretted himself 
into a fit of the gout, because he did not appear before 
twelve o’clock. It wasna a’thegether for sake of the 
money, Dougal thought; but because he didna like 
to part wi’ my gudesire aff the grund. Dougal was 
glad to see Steenie, and brought him into the great oak 
parlour, and there sat the Laird his leesome lane, 
excepting that he had beside him a great, ill-favoured 
jackanape, that was a special pet of his; a cankered 
beast it was, and mony an ill-natured trick it played 
— ill to please it was, and easily angered —ran about 
the haill castle, chattering and yowling, and pinching 
and biting folk, especially before 111 weather, or dis- 
turbances in the state. Sir Robert caa’d it Major 
Weir, (7) after the warlock that was burnt;! and few 
folk liked either the name or the conditions of the 
creature — they thought there was something in it by 
ordinar —and my gudesire was not just easy in his 
mind when the door shut on him, and he saw himself 


1 A celebrated wizard, executed at Edinburgh for sorcery and 
other crimes. 


REDGAUNTLET. 155 


in the room wi’ naebody but the Laird, Dougal Mac- 
Callum, and the Major, a thing that hadna chanced 
to him before. 

Sir Robert sat, or, I should say, lay, in a great 
armed chair, wi’ his grand velvet gown, and his feet on 
a cradle; for he had baith gout and gravel, and his 
face looked as gash and ghastly as Satan’s. Major 
Weir sat opposite to him, in a red laced coat, and the 
Laird’s wig on his head; and aye as Sir Robert girned 
wi’ pain, the jackanape girned too, like a sheep’s- 
head between a pair of tangs — an ill-faured, fearsome 
couple they were. The Laird’s buff-coat was hung on a 
pin behind him, and his broadsword and his pistols 
within reach; for he keepit up the auld fashion of having 
the weapons ready, and a horse saddled day and night, 
just as he used to do when he was able to loup on horse- 
back, and.away after ony of the hill-folk he could get 
speerings of. Some said it was for fear of the Whigs tak- 
ing vengeance, but I judge it was just his auld custom 
—he wasna gien to fear ony thing. The rental-book, 
wi’ its black cover and brass clasps, was lying beside 
him; and a book of sculduddry sangs was put betwixt 
the leaves, to keep it open at the place where it bore 
evidence against the Goodman of Primrose-Knowe, as 
behind the hand with his mails and duties. Sir 
Robert gave my gudesire a look, as if he would have 
withered his heart in his bosom. Ye maun ken he had 
a way of bending his brows, that men saw the visible 
mark of a horse-shoe in his forehead, deep-dinted, as if 
it had been stamped there. 

‘Are ye come light-handed, ye son of a toom 
whistle ?’’? said Sir Robert. ‘‘Zounds! if you 
are ”’ 

My gudesire, with as gude a countenance as he 
could put on, made a leg, and placed the bag of money 
on the table wi’ a dash, like a man that does some- 
thing clever. The Laird drew it to him hastily — ‘Is 
it all here, Steenie, man ?’’ 





156 REDGAUNTLET. 


‘Your honour will find it right,” said my gudesire. 

‘‘ Here, Dougal,’? said the Laird, ‘‘gie Steenie 
a tass of brandy down stairs, till I count the siller 
and write the receipt.’’ 

But they werena weel out of the room, when Sir 
Robert gied a yelloch that garr’d the Castle rock! 
Back ran Dougal—in flew the livery-men—yell on 
yell gied the Laird, ilk ane mair awfw’ than the 
ither. My gudesire knew not whether to stand or flee, 
but he ventured back into the parlour, where a’ was 
gaun hirdy-girdie — naebody to say ‘‘come in,”’ or ‘‘ gae 
out.’’? Terribly the Laird roared for cauld water to his 
feet, and wine to cool his throat ; and hell, hell, hell, 
and its flames, was aye the word in his mouth. They 
brought him water, and when they plunged his swoln 
feet into the tub, he cried out it was burning; and 
folk say that it did bubble and sparkle like a seething 
caldron. He flung the cup at Dougal’s head, and said 
he had given him blood instead of burgundy ; and, sure 
aneugh, the lass washed clotted blood aff the carpet the 
neist day. The jackanape they caa’d Major Weir, it 
jibbered and cried as if it was mocking its master ; 
my gudesire’s head was like to turn—he forgot baith 
siller and receipt, and down stairs he banged ; but as 
he ran, the shrieks came faint and fainter ; there was 
a deep-drawn shivering groan, and word gaed through 
the Castle, that the Laird was dead. 

Weel, away came my gudesire, wi’ his finger in his 
mouth, and his best hope was, that Dougal had seen 
the money-bag, and heard the Laird speak of writing 
the receipt. The young Laird, now Sir John, came 
from Edinburgh, to see things put torights. Sir John 
and his father never gree’d weel. Sir John had been 
bred an advocate, and afterwards sat in the last Scots 
Parliament and voted for the Union, having gotten, it 
was thought, a rug of the compensations — if his father 
could have come out of his grave, he would have brained 
him for it on his awn hearthstane. Some thought it 


REDGAUNTLET. 157 


was easier counting with the auld rough Knight than 
the fairspoken young ane — but mair of that anon. 

Dougal MacCallum, poor body, neither grat nor 
graned, but gaed about the house looking like a corpse, 
but directing, as was his duty, a’ the order of the grand 
funeral. Now, Dougal looked aye waur and waur when 
night was coming, and was aye the last to gang to his 
bed, whilk was in a little round just opposite the 
chamber of dais, whilk his master occupied while he 
was living, and where he now lay in state, as they caa’d 
it, weel-a-day ! The night before the funeral, Dougal 
could keep his awn counsel nae langer ; he came doun 
with his proud spirit, and fairly asked auld Hutcheon 
to sit in his room with him for an hour. When they 
were in the round, Dougal took ae tass of brandy 
to himsell, and gave another to Hutcheon, and wished 
him all health and lang life, and said that, for himsell, 
he wasna lang for this world; for that, every night 
since Sir Robert’s death, his silver call had sounded 
from the state chamber, just as it used to do at nights 
in his lifetime, to call Dougal to help to turn him in 
his bed. Dougal said, that being alone with the dead 
on that floor of the tower, (for naebody cared to wake 
Sir Robert Redgauntlet like another corpse,) he had 
never daured to answer the call, but that now his con- 
science checked him for neglecting his duty ; for, 
‘‘though death breaks service,’’? said MacCallum, ‘it 
shall never break my service to Sir Robert ; and I will 
answer his next whistle, so be you will stand by me, 
Hutcheon.”’ 

Hutcheon had nae will to the wark, but he had stood 
by Dougal in battle and broil, and he wad not fail him 
at this pinch ; so down the carles sat ower a stoup of 
brandy, and Hutcheon, who was something of a clerk, 
would have read a chapter of the Bible ; but Dougal 
would hear naething but @ blaud of Davie Lindsay, 
whilk was the waur preparation. 

When midnight came, and the house was quiet as 


158 REDGAUNTLET.. 


the grave, sure aneugh the silver whistle sounded as 
sharp and shrill as if Sir Robert was blowing it, and 
up gat the twa auld serving-men, and tottered into the 
room where the dead man lay. Hutcheon saw 
aneugh at the first glance ; for there were torches in the 
room, which showed him the foul fiend in his ain shape, 
sitting on the Laird’s coffin! Over he cowped as if he had 
been dead. He could not tell how lang he lay in a 
trance at the door, but when he gathered himself, he 
cried on his neighbour, and getting nae answer, raised 
the house, when Dougal was found lying dead within 
twa steps of the bed where his master’s coffin was placed. 
As for the whistle, it was gaen anes and aye ; but mony 
a time was it heard at the top of the house on the bar- 
tizan, and amang the auld chimneys and turrets, where 
the howlets have their nests. Sir John hushed the 
matter up, and the funeral passed over without mair 
bogle-wark. 

But when a’ was ower, and the Laird was beginning 
to settle his affairs, every tenant was called up for his 
arrears, and my gudesire for the full sum that stood 
against him in the rental-book. Weel, away he trots 
to the Castle, to tell his story, and there he is introduced 
to Sir John, sitting in his father’s chair, in deep 
mourning, with weepers and hanging cravat, and a 
small walking rapier by his side, instead of the auld 
broadsword that had a hundred-weight of steel about it, 
what with blade, chape, and basket-hilt. . I have heard 
their communing so often tauld ower, that I almost 
think I was there mysell, though I couldna be born at 
the time. (In fact, Alan, my companion mimicked, 
with a good deal of humour, the flattering, conciliating 
tone of the tenant’s address, and the hypocritical 
melancholy of the Laird’s reply. Huis grandfather, he 
said, had, while he spoke, his eye fixed on the rental- 
book, as if it were a mastiff-dog that he was afraid 
would spring up and bite him.) 

‘©T wuss ye joy, sir, of the head seat, and the white 


bile, WE iy ae Sak 





Dougal MacCallum and Hutcheon. 
Original Etching by George Cruikshank. 



































—S 








pl Ii 























lll 


PUTT 



























































4 


h af 
jowhy 
Nee 
A 


' 
iy : 





REDGAUNTLET. 159 


loaf, and the braid lairdship. Your father was a kind 
man to friends and followers ; muckle grace to you, 
Sir John, to fill his shoon — his boots, I suld say, for 
he seldom wore shoon, unless it were muils when he 
had the gout.’’ 

‘¢Ay, Steenie,’’? quoth the Laird, sighing deeply, 
and putting his napkin to his een, ‘‘his was a sudden 
call, and he will be missed in the country ; no time to 
set his house in order —weel prepared Godward, no 
doubt, which is the root of the matter — but left us 
behind a tangled hesp to wind, Steenie.— Hem ! hem ! 
We maun go to business, Steenie; much to do, and 
little time to do it in.” 

Here he opened the fatal volume. I have heard of a 
thing they call Doomsday-book —I am clear it has 
been a rental of back-ganging tenants. 

‘‘Stephen,”’ said Sir John, still in the same soft, 
sleekit tone of voice — ‘‘ Stephen Stevenson, or Steen- 
son, ye are down here for a year’s rent behind the 
hand — due at last term.” 

Stephen. ‘* Please--your honour, Sir John, I paid 
it to your father.” 

Sir John. “Ye took a receipt then, doubtless, 
Stephen ; and can produce it ?” 

Stephen. ‘Indeed I hadna time, an it like your 
honour ; for nae sooner had I set doun the siller, and 
just as his honour Sir Robert, that’s gaen, drew it till 
him to count it, and write out the receipt, he was ta’en 
wi’ the pains that removed him.” 

‘That was unlucky,”’ said Sir John, after a pause. 
‘But ye maybe paid it in the presence of somebody. 
I want but a talis qualis evidence, Stephen. I would 
go ower strictly to work with no poor man.”’ 

Stephen. ‘‘Troth, Sir John, there was naebody in 
the room but Dougal MacCallum, the butler. But, 
as your honour kens, he has e’en followed his auld 
master.’’ 

‘Very unlucky again, Stephen,” said Sir John, 


160 REDGAUNTLET. 


without altering his voice a single note. ‘‘The man 
to whom ye paid the money is dead—and the man 
who witnessed the payment is dead too—and the sil- 
ler, which should have been to the fore, is neither seen 
nor heard tell of in the repositories. How am I to 
believe a’ this ? ”’ 

Stephen. ‘I dinna ken, your honour ; but there 
is a bit memorandum note of the very coins ; for, God 
help me! I had to borrow out of twenty purses ; and 
I am sure that ilka man there set down will take his 
grit oath for what purpose I borrowed the money.”’ 

Sir John. ‘I have little doubt ye borrowed the 
money, Steenie. It is the payment to my father that 
I want to have some proof of.” 

Stephen. ‘*The siller maun be about the house, 
Sir John. And since your honour never got it, and 
his honour that was canna have ta’en it wi’ him, 
maybe some of the family may have seen it.’’ 

Sir John. ‘*We will examine the servants, 
Stephen; that is but reasonable.” 

But lackey and lass, and page and groom, all denied 
stoutly that they had ever seen such a bag of money as 
my gudesire described. What was waur, he had 
unluckily not mentioned to any living soul of them his 
purpose of paying his rent. Ae quean had noticed 
something under his arm, but she took it for the pipes. 

Sir John Redgauntlet ordered the servants out of 
the room, and then said to my gudesire, ‘ Now, 
Steenie, ye see you have fair play; and, as I have 
little doubt ye ken better where to find the siller than 
ony other body, I beg, in fair terms, and for your own 
sake, that you will end this fasherie ; for, Stephen, 
ye maun pay or flit.”’ 

‘The Lord forgie your opinion,’’ said Stephen, 
driven almost to his wit’s end — ‘‘ 1am an honest man.” 

‘“‘So am I, Stephen,’’ said his honour; ‘‘and so 
are all the folks in the house, I hope. But if there be 
a knave amongst us, it must be he that tells the story 


REDGAUNTLET, 161 


he cannot prove.’’ He paused, and then added, mair 
sternly, ‘‘If I understand your trick, sir, you want 
to take advantage of some malicious reports concerning 
things in this family, and particularly respecting my 
father’s sudden death, thereby to cheat me out of the 
money, and perhaps take away my character, by insin- 
uating that I have received the rent I am demanding. 
— Where do you suppose this money to be ? — I insist 
upon knowing.” 

My gudesire saw every thing look sae muckle against 
him that he grew nearly desperate — however, he 
shifted from one foot to another, looked to every corner 
of the room, and made no answer. 

‘‘Speak out, sirrah,’’? said the Laird, assuming a 
leok of his father’s, a very particular ane, which he 
had when he was angry — it seemed as if the wrinkles 
of his frown made that selfsame fearful shape of a 
horse’s shoe in the middle of his brow ; — “ Speak out, 
sir! I will know your thoughts ;—do you suppose 
that I have this money ?”’ 

‘‘Far be it frae me to say so,’’ said Stephen. 

** Do you charge any of my people with having taken 
Wee 

‘¢ T wad be laith to charge them that may be inno- 
cent,” said my gudesire ; ‘‘and if there be any one 
that is guilty, I have nae proof.’’ 

‘¢ Somewhere the money must be, if there is a word 
of truth in your story,”’ said Sir John; “Task where 
you think it is — and demand a correct answer ?”’ 

‘Tn hell, if you will have my thoughts of it,’”’ said 
my gudesire, driven to extremity, — ‘‘in hell! with 
your father, his jackanape, and his silver whistle.” 

Down the stairs he ran, (for the parlour was nae 
place for him after such a word, ) and he heard the Laird 
swearing blood and wounds behind him, as fast as ever 
did Sir Robert, and roaring for the bailie and the 
baron-officer. 

Away rode my gudesire to his chief creditor, (him 

VOL. 1—-i1 


162 REDGAUNTLET. 


they caa’d Laurie Lapraik,) to try if he could make 
ony thing out of him; but when he tauld his story, he 
got but the warst word in his wame — thief, beggar, 
and dyvour, were the saftest terms; and to the boot of 
these hard terms, Laurie brought up the auld story of 
his dipping his hand in the blood of God’s saunts, just 
as if a tenant could have helped riding with the Laird, 
and that a laird like Sir Robert Redgauntlet. My 
gudesire was, by this time, far beyond the bounds of 
patience, and while he and Laurie were at deil speed the 
liars, he was wanchancie aneugh to abuse Lapraik’s 
doctrine as weel as the man, and said things that 
garr’d folk’s flesh grue that heard them; —he wasna 
just himsell, and he had lived wi’ a wild set in his 
day. 

At last they parted, and my gudesire was to ride 
hame through the wood of Pitmurkie, that is a’ fou of 
black firs, as they say. —I ken the wood, but the firs 
may be black or white for what I can tell. — At the 
entry of the wood there is a wild common, and on the 
edge of the common, a little lonely change-house, that 
was keepit then by an ostler-wife, they suld hae caa’d 
her Tibbie Faw, and there puir Steenie cried for a 
mutchkin of brandy, for he had had no refreshment the 
haill day. Tibbie was earnest wi’ him to take a bite 
of meat, but he couldna think o’t, nor would he take 
his foot out of the stirrup, and took off the brandy 
wholely at twa draughts, and named a toast at each: — 
the first was, the memory of Sir Robert Redgauntlet, 
and might he never lie quiet in his grave till he had 
righted his poor bond-tenant; and the second was, a 
health to Man’s Enemy, if he would but get him back 
the pock of siller, or tell him what came o’t, for he saw 
the haill world was like to regard him as a thief and a 
cheat, and he took that waur than even the ruin of his 
house and hauld. 

On he rode, little caring where. It wasa dark night 
turned, and the trees made it yet darker, and he let the 


REDGAUNTLET. 163 


beast take its ain road through the wood; when, all of 
a sudden, from tired and wearied that it was before, the 
nag began to spring, and flee, and stend, that my 
gudesire could hardly keep the saddle— Upon the 
whilk, a horseman, suddenly riding up beside him, 
said, ‘‘ That’s a mettle beast of yours, freend; will you 
sell him? ”?—So saying, he touched the horse’s neck 
with his riding-wand, and it fell into its auld heigh-ho 
of a stumbling trot. ‘But his spunk’s soon out of 
him, I think,’’? continued the stranger, ‘‘and that is 
like mony a man’s courage, that thinks he wad do great 
things till he come to the proof.”’ 

My gudesire scarce listened to this, but spurred his 
horse, with ‘‘ Gude e’en to you, freend.”’ 

But it’s like the stranger was ane that doesna lightly 
yield his point; for, ride as Steenie liked, he was aye 
beside him at the selfsame pace. At last my gudesire, 
Steenie Steenson, grew half angry; and, to say the 
truth, half feared. 

‘What is it that ye want with me, freend?”’ he 
said. ‘If ye be arobber, I have nae money; if ye be 
a leal man, wanting company, I have nae heart to 
mirth or speaking; and if ye want to ken the road, I 
scarce ken it mysell.’’ 

‘Tf you will tell me your grief,’ said the stranger, 
‘“‘T am one that, though I have been sair miscaa’d 
in the world, am the only hand. for helping my 
freends.” 

So my gudesire, to ease his ain heart, mair than from 
any hope of help, told him the story from beginning to 
end. 

‘It’s a hard pinch,” said the stranger; ‘but I 
think I can help you.’’ 

‘Tf you could lend the money, sir, and take a lang 
day —I ken nae other help on earth,” said my 
gudesire. 

‘¢ But there may be some under the earth,”’ aid the 
stranger. ‘‘Come, Ill be frank wi’ you; I could lend 


164 REDGAUNTLET. 


you the money on bond, but you would maybe scruple 
my terms. Now, I can tell you, that your auld Laird 
is disturbed in his grave by your curses, and the wail- 
ing of your family, and if ye daur venture to go to see 
him, he will give you the receipt.” 

My gudesire’s hair stood on end at this proposal, but 
he thought his companion might be some humorsome 
chield that was trying to frighten him, and might end 
with lending him the money. Besides, he was bauld 
wi’ brandy, and desperate wi’ distress; and he said, 
he had courage to go to the gate of hell, and a step 
farther, for that receipt. — The stranger laughed. 

Weel, they rode on through the thickest of the wood, 
when, all of a sudden, the horse stopped at the door of a 
great house; and, but that he knew the place was ten 
miles off, my father would have thought he was at 
Redgauntlet Castle. They rode into the outer court- 
yard, through the muckle faulding yetts, and aneath the 
auld porteullis; and the whole front of the house was 
lighted, and there were pipes and fiddles, and as much 
dancing and deray within as used to be in Sir Robert’s 
house at Pace and Yule, and such high seasons. They 
lap off, and my gudesire, as seemed to him, fastened 
his horse to the very ring he had tied him to that 
morning, when he gaed to wait on the young Sir 
John. 

‘God !’? said my gudesire, ‘‘if Sir Robert’s death 
be but a dream!’’ 

He knocked at the ha’ door just as he was wont, 
and his auld acquaintance, Dougal MacCallum, — just 
after his wont, too, — came to open the door, and said, 
‘‘Piper Steenie, are ye there, lad ? Sir Robert has 
been crying for you.” 

My gudesire was like a man in a dream — he looked 
for the stranger, but he was gane for the time. At 
last he just tried to say, ‘‘ Ha! Dougal Driveower, are 
ye living ? I thought ye had been dead.” 

‘‘Never fash yoursell wi’ me,” said Dougal, ‘ but 


REDGAUNTLET. 165 


look to yoursell; and see ye tak naething frae ony 
body here, neither meat, drink, or siller, except just 
the receipt that is your ain.” 

So saying, he led the way out through halls and 
trances that were weel kend to my gudesire, and into 
the auld oak parlour; and there was as much singing 
of profane sangs, and birling of red wine, and speak- 
ing blasphemy and sculduddry, as had ever been in 
Redgauntlet Castle when it was at the blithest. 

But, Lord take us in keeping! what a set of ghastly 
revellers they were that sat round that table! — My 
gudesire kend mony that had long before gane to 
their place, for often had he piped to the most part 
in the hall of Redgauntlet. There was the fierce 
Middleton, and the dissolute Rothes, (s) and the 
crafty Lauderdale; and Dalyell, with his bald head 
and a beard to his girdle; and Earlshall, (¢) with 
Cameron’s blude on his hand; and wild Bonshaw, (w) 
that tied blessed Mr. Cargill’s limbs till the blude 
sprung; and Dumbarton Douglas, the twice-turned 
traitor baith to country and king. There was the 
Bluidy Advocate MacKenyie, who, for his worldly 
wit and wisdom, had been to the rest asa god. And 
there was Claverhouse, as beautiful as when he lived, 
with his long, dark, curled locks, streaming down 
over his laced buff-coat, and his left hand always on 
his right spule-blade, to hide the wound that the sil- 
ver bullet had made.’ He sat apart from them all, and 
looked at them with a melancholy, haughty counte- 
nance; while the rest hallooed, and sung, and laughed, 
that the room rang. But their smiles were fearfully 
contorted from time to time; and their laughter passed 
into such wild sounds, as made my gudesire’s very 
nails grow blue, and chilled the marrow in his banes. 

They that waited at the table were just the wicked 
serving-men and troopers, that had done their work 
and cruel bidding on earth. ‘There was the Lang Lad 


1 Note II. 


166 REDGAUNTLET. 


of the Nethertown, that helped to take Argyle; (v) 
and the Bishop’s summoner, that they called the Deil’s 
Rattle-bag; (w) and the wicked guardsmen, in their 
laced coats; and the savage Highland Amorites, that 
shed blood like water; and many a proud serving-man, 
haughty of heart and bloody of hand, cringing to the 
rich, and making them wickeder than they would be; 
grinding the poor to powder, when the rich had broken 
them to fragments. And mony, mony mair were 
coming and ganging, a’ as busy in their vocation as 
if they had been alive. 

Sir Robert Redgauntlet, in the midst of a’ this fear- 
ful riot, cried, wi’ a voice like thunder, on Steenie 
Piper, to come to the board-head where he was sitting; 
his legs stretched out before him, and swathed up with 
flannel, with his holster pistols aside him, while the 
great broadsword rested against his chair, just as my 
gudesire had seen him the last time upon earth — the 
very cushion for the jackanape was close to him, but 
the creature itsell was not there —it wasna its hour, 
it’s likely; for he heard them say as he came forward, 
‘Ts not the Major come yet?” And another answered, 
‘‘The jackanape will be here betimes the morn.” 
And when my gudesire came forward, Sir Robert, or 
his ghaist, or the deevil in his likeness, said, ‘* Weel, 
piper, hae ye settled wi’ my son for the year’s rent? ”’ 

With much ado my father gat breath to say, that 
Sir John would not settle without his honour’s receipt. 

‘¢Ye shall hae that for a tune of the pipes, Steenie,” 
said the appearance of Sir Robert —‘‘ Play us up, ‘ Weel 
hoddled, Luckie.’ ” 

Now this was a tune my gudesire learned frae a war- 
lock, that heard it when they were worshipping Satan 
at their meetings; and my gudesire had sometimes 
played it at the ranting suppers in Redgauntlet Castle, 
but never very willingly; and now he grew cauld at the 
very name of it, and said, for excuse, he hadna his 
pipes wi’ him. 


i oo: fy Co 


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‘st YY +34 


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shat hak 





Steenie getting bis Receipt. 
Drawn and Etched by W. Hole, R.S. A. 


SS 


RO = 


Cr 


MOIS. 












f ue . of the ueet Se 
University of Iilinale, 








REDGAUNTLET. 167 


‘¢ MacCallum, ye limb of Beelzebub,’’ said the fearfu’ 
Sir Robert, ‘‘ bring Steenie the pipes that I am keep- 
ing for him!’’ 

MacCallum brought a pair of pipes might have served 
the piper of Donald of the Isles. But he gave my 
gudesire a nudge as he offered them; and looking 
secretly and closely, Steenie saw that the chanter was 
of steel, and heated toa white heat; so he had fair 
warning not to trust his fingers with it. So he excused 
himself again, and said, he was faint and frightened, 
and had not wind aneugh to fill the bag. 

‘Then ye maun eat and drink, Steenie,’’ said the 
figure; ‘‘for we do little else here; and it’s ill speak- 
ing between a fou man and a fasting.” 

Now these were the very words that the bloody 
Earl of Douglas said to keep the King’s messenger 
in hand, while he cut the head off Maclhellan of 
Bombie, at the Threave Castle;! and that put Steenie 
mair and mair on his guard. So he spoke up like a 
man, and said he came neither to eat, or drink, or 
make minstrelsy; but simply for his ain— to ken what 
was come o’ the money he had paid, and to get a dis- 
charge for it; and he was so stout-hearted by this 
time, that he charged Sir Robert for conscience-sake — 
(he had no power to say the holy name) —and as he 
hoped for peace and rest, to spread no snares for him, 
but just to give him his ain. 

The appearance gnashed its teeth and laughed, but 
it took from a large pocketbook the receipt, and handed 
it to Steenie. ‘‘There is your receipt, ye pitiful cur; 
and for the money, my dog-whelp of a son may go look 
for it in the Cat’s Cradle.”’ 

My gudesire uttered mony thanks, and was about to 
retire, when Sir Robert roared aloud, ‘‘Stop though, 
thou sack-doudling son of a whore! Iam not done with 
thee. Here we do nothing for nothing; and you must 


1 The reader is referred for particulars to Pitscottie’s History 
of Scotland, 


168 REDGAUNTLET. 


return on this very day twelvemonth, to pay your mas- 
ter the homage that you owe me for my protection.” 

My father’s tongue was loosed of a suddenty, and 
he said aloud, “TJ refer mysell to God’s pleasure, and 
not to yours.” 

He had no sooner uttered the word than all was 
dark around him; and he sunk on the earth with such 
a sudden shock, that he lost both breath and sense. 

How lang Steenie lay there, he could not tell; but 
when he came to himsell, he was lying in the auld 
kirkyard of Redgauntlet parochine, just at the door 
of the family aisle, and the scutcheon of the auld 
knight, Sir Robert, hanging over his head. There 
was a deep morning fog on grass and gravestane 
around him, and his horse was feeding quietly beside 
the minister’s twa cows. Steenie would have thought 
the whole was a dream, but he had the receipt in his 
hand, fairly written and signed by the auld Laird ; 
only the last letters of his name were a little dis- 
orderly, written like one seized with sudden pain. 

Sorely troubled in his mind, he left that dreary 
place, rode through the mist to Redgauntlet Castle, 
and with much ado he got speech of the Laird. 

‘¢ Well, you dyvour bankrupt,’’ was the first word, 
‘‘have you brought me my rent?” 

“‘No,’’ answered my gudesire, ‘‘I have not; but 
I have brought your honour Sir Robert’s receipt 
foriib.”* 

‘¢ How, sirrah ? — Sir Robert’s receipt ! — You told 
me he had not given you one.”’ 

‘¢Will your honour please to see if that bit line 
is right ?” 

Sir John looked at every line, and at every letter, 
with much attention ; and at last, at the date, which 
my gudesire had not observed, — ‘‘ From my appointed 
place,” he read, ‘‘this twenty-fifth of November.” — 
‘¢What !— That is yesterday !— Villain, thou must 
have gone to hell for this ! ” 


REDGAUNTLET. 169 


<‘T got it from your honour’s father — whether he be 
in heaven or hell, I know not,” said Steenie. 

“JT will delate you for a warlock to the Privy 
Council !”? said Sir John. ‘I will send you to your 
master, the devil, with the help of a tar-barrel and 
a torch!” 

‘‘T intend to delate mysell to the Presbytery,’ 
said Steenie, ‘‘and tell them all I have seen last 
night, whilk are things fitter for them to judge of than 
a borrel man like me.” 

Sir John paused, composed himsell, and desired to 
hear the full history ; and my gudesire told it him 
from point to point, as I have told it you — word for 
word, neither more nor less. 

Sir John was silent again for a long time, and at 
last he said, very composedly, ‘‘Steenie, this story 
of yours concerns the honour of many a noble family 
besides mine ; and if it be a leasing-making, to keep 
yourself out of my danger, the least you can expect is 
to have a redhot iron driven through your tongue, and 
that will be as bad as scauding your fingers with a 
redhot chanter. But yet it may be true, Steenie ; 
and if the money cast up, I shall not know what to 
think of it. — But where shall we find the Cat’s 
Cradle ? There are cats enough about the old house, but 
I think they kitten without the ceremony of bed or 
cradle.”’ 

‘¢ We were best ask Hutcheon,” said my gudesire ; 
‘che kens a’ the odd corners about as weel as — 
another serving-man that is now gane, and that I 
wad not like to name.” 

Aweel, Hutcheon, when he was asked, told them, 
that a ruinous turret, lang disused, next to the clock- 
house, only accessible by a ladder, for the opening 
was on the outside, and far above the battlements, was 
called of old the Cat’s Cradle. 

‘‘There will I go immediately,’’ said Sir John; 
and he took (with what purpose, Heaven kens) one 


170 REDGAUNTLET. 


of his father’s pistols from the hall-table, where they 
had lain since the night he died, and hastened to the 
battlements. 

It was a dangerous place to climb, for the ladder 
was auld and frail, and wanted ane or twa rounds. 
However, up got Sir John, and entered at the turret 
door, where his body stopped the only little light 
that was in the bit turret. Something flees at him 
wi’ a vengeance, maist dang him back ower— bang 
gaed the knight’s pistol, and Hutcheon, that held 
the ladder, and my gudesire that stood beside him, 
hears a loud skelloch. A minute after, Sir John 
flings the body of the jackanape down to them, and 
eries that the siller is fund, and that they should 
come up and help him. And there was the bag of 
siller sure aneugh, and mony orra things besides, 
that had been missing for mony a day. And Sir 
John, when he had riped the turret weel, led my gude- 
sire into the dining-parlour, and took him by the hand, 
and spoke kindly to him, and said he was sorry he 
should have doubted his word, and that he would 
hereafter be a good master to him, to make amends. 

‘‘And now, Steenie,” said Sir John, ‘although 
this vision of yours tends, on the whole, to my father’s 
credit, as an honest man, that he should, even after 
his death, desire to see justice done to a poor man like 
you, yet you are sensible that ill-dispositioned men 
might make bad constructions upon it, concerning his 
soul’s health. So, I think, we had better lay the 
haill dirdum on that ill-deedie creature, Major Weir, 
and say naething about your dream in the wood of 
Pitmurkie. You had taken ower muckle brandy to 
be very certain about ony thing ; and, Steenie, this 
receipt,’’ (his hand shook while he held it out,) — 
‘‘its but a queer kind of document, and we will do 
best, I think, to put it quietly in the fire.” 

‘¢Od, but for as queer as it is, it’s a’ the voucher 
I have for my rent,” said my gudesire, who was 


REDGAUNTLET. 17! 


afraid, it may be, of losing the benefit of Sir Robert’s 
discharge. 

‘‘T will bear the contents to your credit in the 
rental-book, and give you a discharge under my own 
hand,’”’ said Sir John, ‘‘and that on the spot. And, 
Steenie, if you can hold your tongue about this mat- 
ter, you shall sit, from this term downward, at an 
easier rent.” 

‘‘Mony thanks to your honour,” said Steenie, who 
saw easily in what corner the wind was ; ‘‘ doubtless 
I will be conformable to all your honour’s commands ; 
only I would willingly speak wi’ some powerful min- 
ister on the subject, for I do not like the sort 
of soumons of appointment whilk your honour’s 
father ’? —— 

‘‘Do not call the phantom my father!” said Sir 
John, interrupting him. 

‘¢ Weel, then, the thing that was so like him,’? — 
said my gudesire; ‘‘he spoke of my coming back to 
him this time twelvemonth, and it’s a weight on my 
conscience.” 

‘¢ Aweel, then,” said Sir John, ‘‘if you be so much 
distressed in mind, you may speak to our minister of 
the parish; he is a douce man, regards the honour of 
our family, and the mair that he may look for some 
patronage from me.” 

Wi’ that my gudesire readily agreed that the receipt 
should be burnt, and the Laird threw it into the chim- 
ney with his ain hand. Burn it would not for them, 
though; but away it flew up the lum, wi’ a lang train 
of sparks at its tail, and a hissing noise like a squib. 

_ My gudesire gaed down to the manse, and the min- 
ister, when he had heard the story, said, it was his real 
opinion, that though my gudesire had gaen very far in 
tampering with dangerous matters, yet, as he had 
refused the devil’s arles, (for such was the offer of 
meat and drink,) and had refused to do homage by 
piping at his bidding, he hoped, that if he held a cir- 


) 


172 REDGAUNTLET. 


cumspect walk hereafter, Satan could take little advan- 
tage by what was come and gane. And, indeed, my 
gudesire, of his ain accord, lang forswore baith the 
pipes and the brandy —it was not even till the year 
was out, and the fatal day passed, that he would so 
much as take the fiddle, or drink usquebaugh or 
tippenny. 

Sir John made up his story about the jackanape as 
he liked himsell; and some believe till this day there 
was no more in the matter than the filching nature of 
the brute. Indeed, ye’ll no hinder some to threap, 
that it was nane o’ the Auld Enemy that Dougal and 
my gudesire saw in the Laird’s room, but only that 
wanchancy creature, the Major, capering on the coffin; 
and that as to the blawing on the Laird’s whistle that 
was heard after he was dead, the filthy brute could do 
that as weel as the Laird himsell, if no better. But 
Heaven kens the truth, whilk first came out by the 
minister’s wife, after Sir John and her ain gudeman 
were baith in the moulds. And then, my gudesire, 
wha was failed in his limbs, but not in his judgment 
or memory — at least nothing to speak of — was obliged 
to tell the real narrative to his freends, for the credit 
of his good name. He might else have been charged 
for a warlock. 


The shades of evening were growing thicker 
around us as my conductor finished his long nar- 
rative with this moral — “ Ye see, birkie, it is nae 
chancy thing to tak a stranger traveller for a guide, 
when ye are in an uncouth land.” 

“T should not have made that inference,” said I. 
“Your grandfather’s adventure was fortunate for 
himself, whom it saved from ruin and distress; and 
fortunate for his landlord also, whom it prevented 
from committing a gross act of Injustice.” 


1 Note III. 


REDGAUNTLET. 173 


“Ay, but they had baith to sup the sauce o’'t 
sooner or later,” said Wandering Willie — ‘‘ What 
was fristed wasna forgiven. Sir John died before 
he was much over threescore; and it was just like 
of a moment’s illness. And for my gudesire, though 
he departed in fulness of years, yet there was my 
father, a yauld man of forty-five, fell down betwixt 
the stilts of his pleugh, and raise never again, and 
left nae bairn but me, a puir sightless, fatherless, 
motherless creature, could neither work nor want. 
Things gaed weel aneugh at first; for Sir Redwald 
Redgauntlet, the only son of Sir John, and the oye 
of auld Sir Robert, and, waes me! the last of the 
honourable house, took the farm off our hands, and 
brought me into his household to have care of me. 
He liked music, and I had the best teachers baith 
England and Scotland could gie me. Mony a merry 
year was I wi him; but waes me! he gaed out 
with other pretty men in the forty-five —TIl say 
nae mair about it— My head never settled weel 
since I lost him; and if I say another word about 
it, deil a bar will I have the heart to play the night. 
— Look out, my gentle chap,” he resumed in a 
different tone, “ye should see the lights in Broken- 
burn Glen by this time.” 


LETTER XII. 
THE SAME TO THE SAME. 


Tam Luter was their minstrel meet, 
Gude Lord as he could lance, 
He played sae shrill and sang sae sweet, 
Till Towsie took a trance. 
Auld Lightfoot there he did forleet, 
And counterfeited France ; 
He used himself as man discreet, 
And took up Morrice danse 
Sae loud, 
At Christ’s Kirk on the Green that day. 


Kine JAMES I. 


I CONTINUE to scribble at length, though the subject 
may seem somewhat deficient in interest. Let the 
erace of the narrative, therefore, and the concern we 
take in each other’s matters, make amends for its 
tenuity. We fools of fancy, who suffer ourselves, 
like Malvolio, to be cheated with our own visions, 
have, nevertheless, this advantage over the wise ones 
of the earth, that we have our whole stock of enjoy- 
ments under our own command, and can dish 
for ourselves an intellectual banquet with most 
moderate assistance from external objects. It is, 
to be sure, something like the feast which the 
Barmecide served up to Alnaschar; and we cannot 
be expected to get fat upon such diet. But then, 
neither is there repletion nor nausea, which often 
succeed. the grosser and more material revel. On 


REDGAUNTLET. 175 


the whole, I still pray, with the Ode to Castle 
Building — 


‘¢ Give me thy hope which sickens not the heart ; 
Give me thy wealth which has no wings to fly ; 
Give me the bliss thy visions can impart ; 
Thy friendship give me, warm in poverty! ” 


And so, despite thy solemn smile and sapient shake 
of the head, I will go on picking such interest as I 
can out of my trivial adventures, even though that 
interest should be the creation of my own fancy ; 
nor will I cease to inflict on thy devoted eyes the 
labour of perusing the scrolls in which I shall 
record my narrative. 

My last broke off as we were on the point of 
descending into the glen at Brokenburn, by the 
dangerous track which I had first travelled en 
croupe, behind a furious horseman, and was now 
again to brave under the precarious guidance of 
a blind man. 

It was now getting dark; but this was no 
inconvenience to my guide, who moved on, as 
formerly, with instinctive security of step, so that 
we soon reached the bottom, and I could see 
lights twinkling in the cottage which had been 
my place of refuge on a former occasion. It 
was not thither, however, that our course was 
directed. We left the habitation of the Laird 
to the left, and turning down the brook, soon 
approached the small hamlet which had been 
erected at the mouth of the stream, probably on 
account of the convenience which it afforded as 
a harbour to the fishing-boats. A large low cot- 
tage, full in our front, seemed highly illuminated ; 
for the light not only glanced from every window 


176 REDGAUNTLET. 


and aperture in its frail walls, but was even visible 
from rents and fractures in the roof, composed of 
tarred shingles, repaired in part by thatch and 
divot. 

While these appearances engaged my attention, that 
of my companion was attracted by a regular succes- 
sion of sounds, like a bouncing on the floor, mixed 
with avery faint noise of music, which Wilhe’s acute 
organs at once recognised and accounted for, while to 
me it was almost inaudible. The old man struck the 
earth with his staffin aviolent passion. “The whore- 
son fisher rabble! They have brought another violer 
upon my walk! They are such smuggling black- 
guards, that they must run in their very music; 
but Pll sort them waur than ony gauger in the 
country. — Stay — hark —it’s no a fiddle neither — 
it’s the pipe and tabor bastard, Simon of Sowport, 
frae the Nicol forest; but I'll pipe and tabor him! 
— Let me hae ance my left hand on his cravat, 
and ye shall see what my right will do. Come 
away, chap—come away, gentle chap — nae time 
to be picking and waling your steps.” And on he 
passed with long and determined strides, dragging 
me along with him. 

I was not quite easy in his company; for, now 
that his minstrel pride was hurt, the man had 
changed from the quiet, decorous, I might almost 
say respectable person, which he seemed while he 
told his tale, into the appearance of a fierce, brawl- 
ing, dissolute stroller. So that when he entered 
the large hut, where a great number of fishers, with 
their wives and daughters, were engaged in eating, 
drinking, and dancing, I was somewhat afraid that 
the impatient violence of my companion might 
procure us an indifferent reception. 


REDGAUNTLET. 177 


But the universal shout of welcome with which 
Wandering Willie was received —the hearty con- 
eratulation —the repeated “Here’s t’ye, Willie!” 
—‘“Whare hae ye been, ye blind deevil?” and the 
call upon him to pledge them — above all, the speed 
with which the obnoxious pipe and tabor were put 
to silence, gave the old man such effectual assurance 
of undiminished popularity and importance, as at 
once put his jealousy to rest, and changed his tone 
of offended dignity, into one better fitted to receive 
such cordial greetings. Young men and women 
crowded round, to tell how much they were afraid 
some mischance had detained him, and how two or 
three young fellows had set out in quest of him. 

“Tt was nae mischance, praised be Heaven,” said 
Willie, “but the absence of the lazy loon Rob the 
Rambler, my comrade, that didna come to meet 
me on the Links; but I hae gotten a braw consort 
in his stead, worth a dozen of him, the unhanged 
blackguard.” 

“And wha is’'t tou’s gotten, Wullie, lad?” said 
half a score of voices, while all eyes were turned 
on your humble servant, who kept the best coun- 
tenance he could, though not quite easy at 
becoming the centre to which all eyes were pointed. 

“T ken him by his hemmed cravat,’ said one 
fellow; ‘it’s Gil Hobson, the souple tailor frae 
Burgh. — Ye are welcome to Scotland, ye prick- 
the-clout loon,” he said, thrusting forth a paw 
much the colour of a badger’s back, and of most 
portentous dimensions. 

“Gil Hobson? Gil whoreson!” exclaimed Wan- 
dering Willie; “it’s a gentle chap that I judge to 
be an apprentice wi auld Joshua Geddes, to the 
quaker-trade.” 

VOL. I.-—12 


178 REDGAUNTLET. 


“What trade be’s that, man?” said he of the 
badger-coloured fist. 

“Canting and lying,”’— said Wille, which pro- 
duced a thundering laugh; “but I am _ teaching 
the callant a better trade, and that is feasting and 
fiddling.” 

Willie’s conduct in thus announcing something 
like my real character, was contrary to compact; 
and yet I was rather glad he did so, for the conse- 
quence of putting a trick upon these rude and 
ferocious men, might, in case of discovery, have been 
dangerous to us both, and I was at the same time 
delivered from the painful effort to support a ficti- 
tious character. The good company, except perhaps 
one or two of the young women, whose looks 
expressed some desire for better acquaintance, gave 
themselves no farther trouble about me; but, while 
the seniors resumed their places near an immense 
bowl, or rather reeking caldron of brandy-punch, 
the younger arranged themselves on the floor, and 
called loudly on Wille to strike up. 

With a brief caution to me, to “mind my credit, 
for fishers have ears, though fish have none,” Willie 
led off in capital style, and I followed, certainly not 
so as to disgrace my companion, who, every now 
and then, gave me a nod of approbation. The 
dances were, of course, the Scottish jigs, and reels, 
and “twasome dances,” with a strathspey or horn- 
pipe for interlude; and the want of grace, on the 
part of the performers, was amply supplied by truth 
of ear, vigour and decision of step, and the agility 
proper to the northern performers. My own spirits 
rose with the mirth around me, and with old Willie’s 
admirable execution, and frequent “weel dune, gentle 
chap, yet!” —and, to confess the truth, I felt a 


REDGAUNTLET. 179 


great deal more pleasure in this rustic revel, than 
I have done at the more formal balls and concerts 
in your famed city, to which I have sometimes 
made my way. Perhaps this was, because I was 
a person of more importance to the presiding 
matron of Brokenburn-foot, than I had the means 
of rendering myself to the far-famed Miss Nickie 
Murray, (x) the patroness of your Edinburgh assem- 
bles. The person I mean was a buxom dame of 
about thirty, her fingers loaded with many a silver 
ring, and three or four of gold; her ankles liberally 
displayed from under her numerous blue, white, 
and scarlet short petticoats, and attired in hose of 
the finest and whitest lamb’s-wool, which arose from 
shoes of Spanish cordwain, fastened with silver 
buckles. She took the lead in my favour, and 
declared, “that the brave young gentleman should 
not weary himself to death wi’ playing, but take 
the floor for a dance or twa.” 

“And what’s to come of me, Dame Martin?” 
said Willie. 

“Come o’ thee?” said the dame; “ mischanter 
on the auld beard o’ ye! ye could play for twenty 
hours on end, and tire out the haill country-side wi’ 
dancing before ye laid down your bow, saving for 
a by-drink or the like o’ that.” 

“In troth, dame,” answered Willie, “ye are nae 
sae far wrang ;sae if my comrade is to take his 
dance, ye maun gie me my drink, and then bob it 
away like Madge of Middlebie.” 

The drink was soon brought; but while Willie 
was partaking of it, a party entered the hut, which 
arrested my attention at once, and intercepted the 
intended gallantry with which I had proposed to 
present my hand to the fresh-coloured, well-made, 


180 REDGAUNTLET. 


white-ankled Thetis, who had obtained me manu- 
mission from my musical task. 

This was nothing less than the sudden appear- 
ance of the old woman whom the Laird had termed 
Mabel; Cristal Nixon, his male attendant; and the 
young person who had said grace to us when I supped 
with him. 

This young person — Alan, thou art in thy way 
a bit of a conjurer —this young person whom I did 
not describe, and whom you, for that very reason, 
suspected was not an indifferent object to me —is, 
I am sorry to say it, in very fact not so much so as 
in prudence she ought. I will not use the name 
of dove on this occasion; for I have applied it too 
often to transient whims and fancies to escape your 
satire, should I venture to apply it now. For it is 
a phrase, I must confess, which I have used —a 
romancer would say, profaned —a little too often, 
considering how few years have passed over my 
head. But seriously, the fair chaplain of Broken- 
burn has been oftenin my head when she had no 
business there; and if this can give thee any clew 
for explaining my motives in lingering about the 
country, and assuming the character of Willie’s 
companion, why, hang thee, thou art welcome to 
make use of it —a permission for which thou need’st 
not thank me much, as thou wouldst not have failed 
to assume it, whether it were given or no. 

Such being my feelings, conceive how they must 
have been excited, when, like a beam upon a cloud, 
I saw this uncommonly beautiful girl enter the 
apartment in which they were dancing; not, how- 
ever, with the air of an equal, but that of a superior, 
come to grace with her presence the festival of her 
dependants. The old man and woman attended, 


REDGAUNTLET. 181 


with looks as sinister as hers were lovely, ike two 
of the worst winter months waiting upon the bright- 
eyed May. 

When she entered — wonder if thou wilt — she 
wore a green mantle, such as thou hast described 
as the garb of thy fair client, and confirmed what I 
had partly guessed from thy personal description, 
that my chaplain and thy visitor were the same 
person. There was an alteration on her brow the 
instant she recognised me. She gave her cloak 
to her female attendant, and, after a momentary 
hesitation, as if uncertain whether to advance or 
retire, she walked into the room with dignity and 
composure, all making way, the men unbonneting, 
and the women curtsying respectfully, as she assumed 
a chair which was reverently placed for her accom- 
modation, apart from others. 

There was then a pause, until the bustling mis- 
tress of the ceremonies, with awkward, but kindly 
courtesy, offered the young lady a glass of wine, 
which was at first declined, and at length only thus 
far accepted, that, bowing round to the festive com- 
pany, the fair visitor wished them all health and 
mirth, and, just touching the brim with her lip, 
replaced it on the salver. There was another pause; 
and I did not immediately recollect, confused as I 
was by this unexpected apparition, that it belonged 
to me to break it. At length a murmur was heard 
around me, being expected to exhibit,—nay, to lead 
down the dance, — in consequence of the previous 
conversation. 

“Deil’s in the fiddler lad,’ was muttered from 
more quarters than one — “saw folk ever sic a 
thing as a shamefaced fiddler before ?” 

At length a venerable Triton, seconding his remon- 


182 REDGAUNTLET. 


strances with a hearty thump on my shoulder, cried 
out, “To the floor — to the floor, and let us see how 
ye can fling — the lasses are a’ waiting.” 

Up I jumped, sprung from the elevated station 
which constituted our orchestra, and, arranging 
my ideas as rapidly as I could, advanced to the 
head of the room, and, instead of offering my 
hand to the white-footed Thetis aforesaid, I ven- 
turously made the same proposal to her of the 
Green Mantle. 

The nymph’s lovely eyes seemed to open with 
astonishment at the audacity of this offer; and, 
from the murmurs I heard around me, I also under- 
stood that it surprised, and perhaps offended, the 
bystanders. But after the first moment’s emotion, 
she wreathed her neck, and drawing herself haughtily 
up, like one who was willing to show that she was 
sensible of the full extent of her own condescension, 
extended her hand towards me, like a princess grac- 
ing a squire of low degree. 

There is affectation in all this, thought I to 
myself, if the Green Mantle has borne true evi- 
dence — for young ladies do not make visits, or 
write letters to counsel learned in the law, to inter- 
fere in the motions of those whom they hold as 
cheap as this nymph seems to do me; and if Iam 
cheated by a resemblance of cloaks, still I am inter- 
ested to show myself, in some degree, worthy of the 
favour she has granted with so much state and 
reserve. — The dance to be performed was the old 
Scots Jigg, in which you are aware I used to play 
no sorry figure at La Pique’s, when thy clumsy 
movements used to be rebuked by raps over the 
knuckles with that great professor’s fiddlestick. 
The choice of the tune was left to my comrade 


REDGAUNTLET. e 183 


Willie, who, having finished his drink, feloniously 
struck up to the well-known and popular measure, 


“ Merrily danced the Quaker’s wife, 
And merrily danced the Quaker.”’ 


An astounding laugh arose at my expense, and I 
should have been annihilated, but that the smile 
which mantled on the lip of my partner, had a dif- 
ferent expression from that of ridicule, and seemed 
to say, “Do not take this to heart.” And I did 
not, Alan. My partner danced admirably, and I 
like one who was determined, if outshone, which I 
could not help, not to be altogether thrown into the 
shade. 

I assure you our performance, as well as Willie’s 
music, deserved more polished spectators and audi- 
tors ; but we could not then have been greeted with 
such enthusiastic shouts of applause as attended 
while I handed my partner to her seat, and took 
my place by her side, as one who had a right to 
offer the attentions usual on such an occasion. She 
was visibly embarrassed, but I was determined not 
to observe her confusion, and to avail myself of 
the opportunity of learning whether this beautiful 
creature’s mind was worthy of the casket in which 
Nature had lodged it. 

Nevertheless, however courageously I formed this 
resolution, you cannot but too well guess the diffi- 
culties | must needs have felt in carrying it into 
execution; since want of habitual intercourse with 
the charmers of the other sex has rendered me a 
sheepish cur, only one grain less awkward than thy- 
self. Then she was so very beautiful, and assumed 
an air of so much dignity, that I was like to fall 


184 REDGAUNTLET. 


under the fatal error of supposing she should only 
be addressed with something very clever; and in 
the hasty racking which my brains underwent in 
this persuasion, not a single idea occurred that com- 
mon sense did not reject as fustian on the one hand, 
or weary, flat, and stale triticism on the other. I 
felt as if my understanding were no longer my own, 
but was alternately under the dominion of Aldibo- 
rontiphoscophornio, and that of his facetious friend 
- Rigdum-Funnidos. How did I envy at that moment 
our friend Jack Oliver, who produces with such happy 
complacence his fardel of small talk, and who, as he 
never doubts his own powers of affording amusement, 
passes them current with every pretty woman he 
approaches, and fills up the intervals of chat by his 
complete acquaintance with the exercise of the fan, 
the flacon, and the other duties of the Cavaliere 
Serviente. Some of these I attempted, but I sup- 
pose it was awkwardly; at least the Lady Green- 
mantle received them as a princess accepts the 
homage of a clown. 

Meantime the floor remained empty, and as the 
mirth of the good meeting was somewhat checked, 
I ventured, as a dernier resort, to propose a minuet. 
She thanked me, and told me haughtily enough, 
“she was here to encourage the harmless pleasures 
of these good folks, but was not disposed to make 
an exhibition of her own indifferent dancing for 
their amusement.” 

She paused a moment, as if she expected me to 
suggest something; and as I remained silent and 
rebuked, she bowed her head more graciously, and 
said, “ Not to affront you, however, a country-dance, 
if you please.” 

What an ass was I, Alan, not to have anticipated 


hod 


10 


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$ 
; 





At the Dance. 
Drawn and Etched by W. Boucher. 





CALE 


CD 
Ax 


Lge 


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REDGAUNTLET. 185 


her wishes! Should I not have observed that the 
ill-favoured couple, Mabel and Cristal, had placed 
themselves on each side of her seat, like the support- 
ers of the royal arms? the man, thick, short, shaggy, 
and hirsute, as the lon; the female, skin-dried, tight- 
laced, long, lean, and hungry-faced, like the unicorn. 
I ought to have recollected, that under the close 
inspection of two such watchful salvages, our com- 
munication, while in repose, could not have been 
easy; that the period of dancing a minuet was not 
the very choicest time for conversation; but that 
the noise, the exercise, and the mazy confusion of a 
country-dance, where the inexperienced performers 
were every now and then running against each other, 
and compelling the other couples to stand still for a 
minute at a time, besides the more regular repose 
afforded by the intervals of the dance itself, gave the 
best possible openings for a word or two spoken in 
season, and without being liable to observation. 

We had but just led down, when an opportunity 
of the kind occurred, and my partner said, with 
ereat gentleness and modesty, “It is not perhaps 
very proper in me to acknowledge an acquaintance 
that is not claimed; but I believe I speak to Mr. 
Darsie Latimer ?” 

“Darsie Latimer was indeed the person that had 
now the honour and happiness” 

I would have gone on in the false gallop of com- 
pliment, but she cut me short. ‘And why,” she 
said, “is Mr. Latimer here, and in disguise, or at 
least assuming an office unworthy of a man of 
education ?—I beg pardon,” she continued, — “I 
would not give you pain, but surely making an asso- 
ciate of a person of that description ” 

She looked towards my friend Willie, and was 








186 REDGAUNTLET. 


silent. I felt heartily ashamed of myself, and has- 
tened to say it was an idle frolic, which want of 
occupation had suggested, and which I could not 
regret, since it had procured me the pleasure I at 
present enjoyed. 

Without seeming to notice my compliment, she 
took the next opportunity to say, “ Will Mr. Latimer 
permit a stranger who wishes him well to ask, 
whether it is right that, at his active age, he should 
be in so far void of occupation, as to be ready to 
adopt low society for the sake of idle amusement ?” 

“You are severe, madam,” I answered; “but I 
cannot think myself degraded by mixing with any 
society where I meet” 

Here I stopped short, conscious that I was giving 
my answer an unhandsome turn. The argumentum 
ad hominem, the last to which a polite man has 
recourse, may, however, be justified by circumstances, 
but seldom or never the argumentum ad feminam. 

She filled up the blank herself which I had left. 
“Where you meet me, I suppose you would say ? 
But the case is different. I am, from my unhappy 
fate, obliged to move by the will of others, and to 
be in places which I would by my own will gladly 
avoid. Besides, I am, except for these few minutes, 
no participator of the revels —a spectator only, and 
attended by my servants. Your situation is differ- 
ent—you are here by choice, the partaker and 
minister of the pleasures of a class below you in 
education, birth, and fortunes. — If I speak harshly, 
Mr. Latimer,” she added, with much sweetness of 
manner, “I mean kindly.” 

I was confounded by her speech, “severe in youth- 
ful wisdom ;” all of naive or lively, suitable to such 
a dialogue, vanished from my recollection, and I 





REDGAUNTLET. 187 


answered, with gravity like her own, “I am, indeed, 
better educated than these poor people; but you, 
madam, whose kind admonition I am grateful for, 
must know more of my condition than I do myself 
— I dare not say I am their superior in birth, since 
I know nothing of my own, or in fortunes, over 
which hangs an impenetrable cloud.” 

“ And why should your ignorance on these points 
drive you into low society and idle habits ?” answered 
my female monitor. “Is it manly to wait till for- 
tune cast her beams upon you, when by exertion of 
your own energy you might distinguish yourself ? — 
Do not the pursuits of learning lie open to you — of 
manly ambition — of war ?— But no—not of war, 
that has already cost you too dear.” 

“T will be what you wish me to be,’ I replied 
with eagerness — “ You have but to choose my path, 
and you shall see if I do not pursue it with energy, 
were it only because you command me.” 

“Not because I command you,” said the maiden, 
“but because reason, common sense, manhood, and, 
in one word, regard for your own safety, give the 
same counsel.” 

“ At least permit me to reply, that reason and 
sense never assumed a fairer form — of persuasion,” 
I hastily added; for she turned from me —nor did 
she give me another opportunity of continuing what 
I had to say till the next pause of the dance, when, 
determined to bring our dialogue to a point, I said, 
“You mentioned manhood also, madam, and, in the 
same breath, personal danger. My ideas of manhood 
suggest that it is cowardice to retreat before dan- 
gers of a doubtful character. You, who appear to 
know so much of my fortunes that I might call you 
my guardian angel, tell me what these dangers are, 


188 REDGAUNTLET. 


that I may judge whether manhood calls on me to 
face or to fly them.” 

She was evidently perplexed by this appeal. 

“You make me pay dearly for acting as your 
humane adviser,’ she replied at last: “I acknow- 
ledge an interest in your fate, and yet I dare not 
tell you whence it arises; neither am I at liberty 
to say why, or from whom, you are in danger; but 
it is not less true that danger is near and imminent. 
Ask me no more, but, for your own sake, begone 
from this country. Elsewhere you are safe — here 
you do but invite your fate.” 

“But, am I doomed to bid thus farewell to almost 
the only human being who has showed an interest 
in my welfare?— Do not say so—say that we 
shall meet again, and the hope shall be the leading 
star to regulate my course!” | 

“Tt is more than probable,’ she said — “much 
more than probable, that we may never meet again. 
The help which I now render you is all that may 
be in my power; it is such as I should render to a 
blind man whom I might observe approaching the 
verge of a precipice; it ought to excite no surprise, 
and requires no gratitude.” 

So saying, she again turned from me, nor did she 
address me until the dance was on the point of end- 
ing, when she said, “Do not attempt to speak to, 
or approach me again in the course of the night; 
leave the company as soon as you can, but not 
abruptly, and God be with you.” 

I handed her to her seat, and did not quit the 
fair palm I held, without expressing my feelings by 
a gentle pressure. She coloured slightly, and with- 
drew her hand, but not angrily. Seeing the eyes 
of Cristal and Mabel sternly fixed on me, I bowed 


REDGAUNTLET. 189 


deeply, and withdrew from her; my heart sadden- 
ing, and my eyes becoming dim in spite of me, as 
the shifting crowd hid us from each other. 

It was my intention to have crept back to my 
comrade Willie, and resumed my bow with such 
spirit as I might, although at the moment I would 
have given half my income for an instant’s solitude. 
But my retreat was cut off by Dame Martin, with 
the frankness —if it is not an inconsistent phrase 
—of rustic coquetry, that goes straight up to the 
point. 

“ Ay, lad, ye seem unca sune weary, to dance sae 
lightly? Better the nag that ambles a’ the day, 
than him that makes a brattle for a mile, and then’s 
dune wi’ the road.” 

This was a fair cialleres and I could not decline 
accepting it. Besides, I could see Dame Martin 
was queen of the revels; and so many were the rude 
and singular figures about me, that I was by no 
means certain whether I might not need some pro- 
tection. I seized on her willing hand, and we took 
our places in the dance, where, if I did not acquit 
myself with all the accuracy of step and movement 
which I had before attempted, I at least came up 
to the expectations of my partner, who said, and 
almost swore, “I was prime at it;” while, stimu- 
lated to her utmost exertions, she herself frisked 
lke a kid, snapped her fingers like castanets, whooped 
like a Bacchanal, and bounded from the floor like a 
tennis-ball, — ay, till the colour of her garters was 
no particular mystery. She made the less secret of 
this, perhaps, that they were sky-blue, and fringed 
with silver. 

The time has been that this would have been 
special fun; or rather, last night was the only time 


190 REDGAUNTLET. 


I can recollect these four years when it would not 
have been so; yet, at this moment, I cannot tell 
you how I longed to be rid of Dame Martin. I 
almost wished she would sprain one of those “ many- 
twinkling ” ankles, which served her so alertly; and 
when, in the midst of her exuberant caprioling, I 
saw my former partner leaving the apartment, and 
with eyes, as I thought, turning towards me, this 
unwillingness to carry on the dance increased to 
such a point, that I was almost about to feign a 
sprain or a dislocation myself, in order to put an 
end to the performance. But there were around 
me scores of old women, all of whom looked as if 
they might have some sovereign recipe for such an 
accident; and, remembering Gil Blas and his pre- 
tended disorder in the robbers’ cavern, I thought 
it as wise to play Dame Martin fair, and dance till 
she thought proper to dismiss me. What I did I 
resolved to do strenuously, and in the latter part of 
the exhibition, I cut and sprang from the floor as 
high and as perpendicularly as Dame Martin her- 
self; and received, I promise you, thunders of 
applause, for the common people always prefer exer- 
tion and agility to grace. At length Dame Martin 
could dance no more, and, rejoicing at my release, 
I led her toa seat, and took the privilege of a partner 
to attend her. 

“Hegh, sirs,” exclaimed Dame Martin, “I am 
sair forfoughen! Troth, callant, I think ye hae 
been amaist the death o’ me.” 

I could only atone for the alleged offence by 
fetching her some refreshment, of which she readily 
partook. | 

“TI have been lucky in my partners,” I said, 
“first that pretty young lady, and then you, Mrs. 
Martin.” 


REDGAUNTLET. IQ! 


“Hout wi’ your fleeching,” said Dame Martin. 
“Gae wa —gae wa, lad; dinna blaw in folk’s lugs 
that gate; me and Miss Lilias even’d thegither! 
Na, na, lad —od, she is maybe four or five years 
younger than the like o’ me,— by and attour her 
gentle havings.” 

“She is the Laird’s daughter?” said I, in as 
careless a tone of enquiry as I could assume. 

“His daughter, man? Na, na, only his niece 
—and sib aneugh to him, I think.” 

“Ay, indeed,” I replied; “I thought she had 
borne his name ?” 

“She bears her ain name, and that’s Lilias.” 

“ And has she no other name ?” asked I. 

“What needs she another till she gets a gude- 
man ?” answered my Thetis, a little miffed perhaps 
—to use the women’s phrase —that I turned the 
conversation upon my former partner, rather than 
addressed it to herself. 

There was a short pause, which was interrupted 
by Dame Martin observing, “They are standing up 
again.” 

“True,” said I, having no mind to renew my late 
violent capriole, “and I must go help old Willie.” 

Ere I could extricate myself, I heard poor Thetis 
address herself to a sort of Mer-man in a jacket of 
seaman’s blue, and a pair of trowsers, (whose hand, 
by the way, she had rejected at an earlier part of 
the evening,) and intimate that she was now dis- 
posed to take a trip. 

“Trip away then, dearie,” said the vindictive man 
of the waters, without offering his hand; “ there,” 
pointing to the floor, “is a roomy berth for you.” 

Certain I had made one enemy, and perhaps two, 
I hastened to my original seat beside Wille, and 


192 REDGAUNTLET. 


began to handle my bow. But I could see that my 
conduct had made an unfavourable impression ; the 
words, “‘ flory conceited chap,” — “ hafflins gentle,” 
and at length, the still more alarming epithet of 
“spy,” began to be buzzed about, and I was heartily 
glad when the apparition of Sam’s visage at the 
door, who was already possessed of and draining a 
can of punch, gave me assurance that my means of 
retreat were at hand. I intimated as much to 
Willie, who probably had heard more of the mur- 
murs of the company than I had, for he whispered, 
“ Ay, ay — awa wi’ ye — ower lang here — slide out 
canny — dinna let them see ye are on the tramp.” 

I slipped half-a-cuinea into the old man’s hand, 
who answered, “ Truts! pruts! nonsense! but I’se 
no refuse, trusting ye can afford it. — Awa wi’ ye — 
and if ony body stops ye, cry on me.” 

I glided, by his advice, along the room as if look- 
ing for a partner, joined Sam, whom I disengaged 
with some difficulty from his can, and we left the 
cottage together in a manner to attract the least 
possible observation. The horses were tied in a 
neighbouring shed, and as the moon was up and I 
was now familiar with the road, broken and com- 
plicated as it is, we soon reached the Shepherd’s 
Bush, where the old landlady was sitting up wait- 
ing for us, under some anxiety of mind, to account 
for which she did not hesitate to tell me that some 
folks had gone to Brokenburn from her house, or 
neighbouring towns, that did not come so safe back 
again. ‘“ Wandering Willie,” she said, “ was doubt- 
less a kind of protection.” 

Here Willie’s wife, who was smoking in the 
chimney corner, took up the praises of her “ hinnie,” 
as she called him, and endeavoured to awaken my 


REDGAUNTLET. 193 


generosity afresh, by describing the dangers from 
which, as she was pleased to allege, her husband’s 
countenance had assuredly been the means of pre- 
serving me. I was not, however, to be fooled out 
of more money at this time, and went to bed in 
haste, full of various cogitations. 

I have since spent a couple of days betwixt Mount 
Sharon and this place, and betwixt reading, writing 
to thee this momentous history, forming plans for 
seeing the lovely Lilias, and— partly, I think, for 
the sake of contradiction — angling a little in spite 
of Joshua’s scruples — though I am rather liking 
the amusement better as I begin to have some suc- 
cess in it. 

And now, my dearest Alan, you are in full pos- 
session of my secret —let me as frankly into the 
recesses of your bosom. How do you feel towards 
this fair ignis fatuus, this lily of the desert? Tell 
me honestly ; for however the recollection of her 
may haunt my own mind, my love for Alan Fair- 
ford surpasses the love of woman. I know, too, 
that when you do love, it will be to 


“ Love once and love no more.” 


A deep-consuming passion, once kindled in a breast 
so steady as yours, would never be extinguished 
but with life. I am of another and more volatile 
temper, and though I shall open your next with a 
trembling hand, and uncertain heart, yet let it bring 
a frank confession that this fair unknown has made 
a deeper impression on your gravity than you rec- 
koned for, and you will see I can tear the arrow from 
my own wound, barb and all. In the meantime, 


though I have formed schemes once more to see 
VOL. Io 


194 REDGAUNTLET. 


her, I will, you may rely on it, take no step for 
putting them into practice. I have refrained from 
this hitherto, and’ I give you my word of honour, 
I shall continue to do so; yet why should you need 
any further assurance from one whois so entirely 


yours as 
ioe 


P. 8.—I shall be on thorns till I receive your 
answer. I read, and re-read your letter, and can- 
not for my soul discover what your real sentiments 
are. Sometimes I think you write of her as one in 
jest — and sometimes I think that cannot be. Put 
me at ease as soon as possible. 


LETTER XIII. 
ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER. 


I write on the instant, as you direct; and in a 
tragi-comic humour, for I have a tear in my eye, 
and a smile on my cheek. Dearest Darsie, sure 
never a being but yourself could be so generous — 
sure never a being but yourself could be so absurd! 
I remember when you were a boy you wished to 
make your fine new whip a present to old aunt 
Peggy, merely because she admired it ; and now, with 
like unreflecting and unappropriate liberality, you 
would resign your beloved to a smoke-dried young 
sophister, who cares not one of the hairs which it 
is his occupation to split, for all the daughters of 
Eve. J in love with your Lilias — your green- 
mantle — your unknown enchantress! — why I 
scarce saw her for five minutes, and even then 
only the tip of her chin was distinctly visible. 
She was well made, and the tip of her chin was 
of a most promising cast for the rest of the face; 
but, Heaven save you! she came upon business! 
and for a lawyer to fall in love with a pretty client 
on a single consultation, would be as wise as if he 
became enamoured of a particularly bright sunbeam 
which chanced for a moment to gild his bar-wig. I 
give you my word I am heart-whole; and, more- 
over, I assure you, that before I suffer a woman to 
sit near my heart’s core, I must see her full face, 
without mask or mantle, ay, and know a good deal 
of her mind into the bargain. So never fret your- 


196 REDGAUNTLET. 


self on my account, my kind and generous Darsie ; 
but, for your own sake, have a care, and let not an 
idle attachment, so lightly taken up, lead you into 
serious danger. 

On this subject I feel so apprehensive, that now 
when I am decorated with the honours of the gown, 
I should have abandoned my career at the very 
starting to come to you, but for my father having 
contrived to clog my heels with fetters of a profes- 
sional nature. I will tell you the matter at length, 
for it is comical enough ; and why should not you 
list to my juridical adventures, as well as I to those 
of your fiddling knight-errantry ? 

It was after dinner, and I was considering how I 
might best introduce to my father the private resolu- 
tion I had formed to set off for Dumfries-shire, 
or whether I had not better run away at once, and 
plead my excuse by letter, when, assuming the 
peculiar look with which he communicates any of 
his intentions respecting me, that he suspects may 
not be altogether acceptable, “Alan,” he said, “ ye’ 
now wear a gown — ye have opened shop, as 
we would say of a more mechanical profession ; 
and, doubtless, ye think the floor of the courts is 
strewed with guineas, and that ye have only to 
stoop down to gather them?” 

“TI hope I am sensible, sir,” I replied, “that I 
have some knowledge and practice to acquire, and 
must stoop for that in the first place.” 

“It is well said,” answered my father; and, 
always afraid to give too much encouragement, 
added, “ Very well said, if it be well acted up to — 
Stoop to get knowledge and practice is the very 
word. Ye know very well, Alan, that in the other 
faculty who study the Ars medendt, before the young 


REDGAUNTLET. 197 


doctor gets to the bedsides of palaces, he must, as 
they call it, walk the hospitals; and cure Lazarus 
of his sores, before he be admitted to prescribe for 
Dives, when he has gout or indigestion ” 

“T am aware, sir, that” 

“ Whisht — do not interrupt the court — Well 
— also the chirurgeons have an useful practice, by 
which they put their apprentices and tyrones to 
work upon senseless dead bodies, to which, as they 
can do no good, so they certainly can do as little 
harm ; while at the same time the ¢yro, or appren- 
tice, oains experience, and becomes fit to whip off 
a ieee or arm from a living subject, as EN as ye 
would slice an onion.’ 

“JT believe I guess your meaning, sir, a rereren 
I; “and were it not for a very particular engage- 
ment ” 

“Do not speak to me of engagements; but 
whisht — there is a good lad —and do not interrupt 
the court.” 

My father, you know, is apt — be it said with all 
filial duty — to be a little prolix in his harangues. 
I had nothing for it but to lean back and listen. 

“ Maybe you think, Alan, because I have, doubt- 
less, the management of some actions in dependence, 
whilk my worthy clients have intrusted me with, 
that I may think of airting them your way 
instanter ; and so setting you up in practice, so 
far as my small business or influence may go; 
and, doubtless, Alan, that is a day whilk I hope 
may come round. But then, before I give, as the 
proverb hath it, ‘My own fish-guts to my own sea- 
maws, I must, for the sake of my own character, 
be very sure that my sea-maw can pick them to 
some purpose. What say ye?” 








198 REDGAUNTLET. 


“T am so far,” answered I, “from wishing to get 
early into practice, sir, that I would willingly 
bestow a few days” 

“Tn farther study, ye would say, Alan. But that 
is not the way either — ye must walk the hospitals 
— ye must cure Lazarus — ye must cut and carve 
on a departed subject, to show your skill.” 

“T am sure,’ I replied, “I will undertake the 
cause of any poor man with pleasure, and bestow 
as much pains upon it as if it were a duke’s; but 
for the next two or three days ” 

“They must be devoted to close study, Alan — 
very close study indeed; for ye must stand primed 
for a hearing, 7 presentia Dominorum, upon Tues- 
day next.” 

“T, sir!” I replied in astonishment —“I have 
not opened my mouth in the Outer-House yet!” 

“Never mind the Court of the Gentiles, man,” 
said my father; “we will have you into the Sanc- 
tuary at once — over shoes, over boots.” 

“But, sir, I should really spoil any cause thrust 
on me so hastily.” 

“Ye cannot spoil it, Alan,” said my father, rub- 
bing his hands with much complacency ; “that is 
the very cream of the business, man — it is just, as 
I said before, a subject upon whilk all the tyrones 
have been trying their whittles for fifteen years; 
and as there have been about ten or a dozen agents 
concerned, and each took his own way, the case is 
come to that pass, that Stair or Arniston could not 
mend it; and I do not think even you, Alan, can 
do it much harm — ye may get credit by it, but ye 
can lose none.” 

“And pray what is the name of my happy client, 
sir?” said I, ungraciously enough, I believe. 








REDGAUNTLET. 199 


“Tt is a well-known name in the Parliament- 
House,” replied my father. “To say the truth, I 
expect him every moment; it is Peter Peebles.” 4 

“Peter Peebles!” exclaimed I, in astonishment ; 
“he is an insane beggar — as poor as Job, and as 
mad as a March hare!” 

“He has been pleaing in the court for fifteen 
years,” said my father, in a tone of commiseration, 
which seemed to acknowledge that this fact was 
enough to account for the poor man’s condition 
both in mind and circumstances. 

“ Besides, sir,” I added, “he is on the Poor’s 
Roll; and you know there are advocates regularly 
appointed to manage those cases; and for me to 
presume to interfere ”’ 

“ Whisht, Alan!—never interrupt the court — 
all that is managed for ye like a tee’d ball;” (my 
father sometimes draws his similes from his once 
favourite game of golf;) —“ you must know, Alan, 
that Peter’s cause was to have been opened by young 
Dumtoustie —ye may ken the lad, a son of Dum- 
toustie of that ilk, member of Parliament for the 
county of , and a nephew of the Laird’s 
younger brother, worthy Lord Bladderskate, whilk 
ye are aware sounds as like being akin to a peat- 
ship? and a sheriffdom, as a sieve is sib to a riddle. 
Now, Saunders Drudgeit, my lord’s clerk, came to 
me this morning in the House, like ane bereft of his 
wits ; for it seems that young Dumtoustie is ane of 
the Poor’s Lawyers, and Peter Peebles’s process had 
been remitted to him of course. But so soon as the 








1 Note IV. — Peter Peebles. 

2 Formerly, a lawyer, supposed to be under the peculiar patro- 
nage of any particular judge, was invidiously termed his peat 
or pet. 


200 REDGAUNTLET. 


harebrained goose saw the pokes,! (as, indeed, 
Alan, they are none of the least,) he took fright, 
called for his nag, lap on, and away to the country 
is he gone; and so, said Saunders, my lord is at his 
wit’s end wi’ vexation and shame, to see his nevoy 
break off the course at the very starting. ‘Ill tell 
you, Saunders,’ said I, ‘were I my lord, and a friend 
or kinsman of mine should leave the town while 
the court was sitting, that kinsman, or be he what 
he liked, should never darken my door again.’ And 
then, Alan, I thought to turn the ball our own 
way; and I said that you were a gey sharp birkie, 
just off the irons, and if it would oblige my lord, 
and so forth, you would open Peter’s cause on 
Tuesday, and make some handsome apology for the 
necessary absence of your learned friend, and the 
loss which your client and the court had sustained, 
and so forth. Saunders lap at the proposition, like 
a cock at a grossart; for, he said, the only chance 
was to get a new hand, that did not ken the charge 
he was taking upon him; for there was not a lad 
of two Sessions’ standing that was not dead-sick of 
Peter Peebles and his cause; and he advised me to 
break the matter gently to you at the first; but I 
told him you were a good bairn, Alan, and had no 
will and pleasure in these matters but mine.” 

What could I say, Darsie, in answer to this 
arrangement, so very well meant— so very vexa- 
tious at the same time ?— To imitate the defection 
and flight of young Dumtoustie, was at once to 
destroy my father’s hopes of me for ever ; nay, such 
is the keenness with which he regards all connected 
with his profession, it might have been a step to 
breaking his heart. I was obliged, therefore, to bow 


1 Process-bags. 


REDGAUNTLET. 201 


in sad acquiescence, when my father called to James 
Wilkinson to bring the two bits of pokes he would 
find on his table. 

Exit James, and presently re-enters, bending under 
the load of two huge leathern bags, full of papers 
to the brim, and labelled on the greasy backs with 
the magic impress of the clerks of court, and the 
title, Peebles against Plainstanes. This huge mass was 
deposited on the table, and my father, with no ordi- 
nary glee in his countenance, began to draw out the 
various bundles of papers, secured by none of your 
red tape or whipcord, but stout, substantial casts of 
tarred rope, such as might have held small craft at 
their moorings. 

I made a last and desperate effort to get rid of 
the impending job. “I am really afraid, sir, that 
this case seems so much complicated, and there is 
so little time to prepare, that we had better move 
the Court to supersede it till next Session.” 

“How, sir?—how, Alan?” said my father — 
“Would you approbate and reprobate, sir ?— You 
have accepted the poor man’s cause, and if you have 
not his fee in your pocket, it is because he has none 
to give you; and now would you approbate and 
reprobate in the same breath of your mouth ? — 
Think of your oath of office, Alan, and your duty 
to your father, my dear boy.” 

Once more, what could I say ?— I saw, from my 
father’s hurried and alarmed manner, that nothing 
could vex him so much as failing in the point 
he had determined to carry, and once more inti- 
mated my readiness to do my best, under every 
disadvantage. 

“Well, well, my boy,” said my father, “the Lord 
will make your days long in the land, for the hon- 


202 REDGAUNTLET. 


our you have given to your father’s grey hairs. 
You may find wiser advisers, Alan, but none that 
can wish you better.” 

My father, you know, does not usually give way 
to expressions of affection, and they are interesting 
in proportion to their rarity. My eyes began to 
fill at seeing his glisten; and my delight at having 
given him such sensible gratification would have 
been unmixed, but for the thoughts of you. These 
out of the question, I could have grappled with the 
bags, had they been as large as corn-sacks. But, to 
turn what was grave into farce, the door opened, 
and Wilkinson ushered in Peter Peebles. 

You must have seen this original, Darsie, who, 
like others in the same predicament, continues to 
haunt the courts of justice, where he has made ship- 
wreck of time, means, and understanding. Such 
insane paupers have sometimes seemed to me to 
resemble wrecks lying upon the shoals on the Good- 
win Sands, or in Yarmouth Roads, warning other 
vessels to keep aloof from the banks on which they 
have been lost; or rather such ruined clients are like 
scarecrows and potatoe-bogles, distributed through 
the courts to scare away fools from the scene of 
litigation. 

The identical Peter wears a huge great-coat, 
threadbare and patched itself, yet carefully so dis- 
posed and secured by what buttons remain, and 
many supplementary pins, as to conceal the still 
more infirm state of his under garments. The 
shoes and stockings of a ploughman were, however, 
seen to meet at his knees, with a pair of brownish, 
blackish breeches; a rusty-coloured handkerchief, 
that has been black in its day, surrounded his 
throat, and was an apology for linen. His hair, 


ly -t : 


nat pap 





Alan introduced to Peebles. 


Drawn by T. Scott, A.R.S. A. — Etched by 
H. R. Robertson. 


































































































SA DAH 
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REDGAUNTLET. 203 


half grey, half black, escaped in elf-locks around a 
huge wig, made of tow, as it seemed to me, and so 
much shrunk, that it stood up on the very top of 
his head; above which he plants, when covered, an 
immense cocked hat, which, like the chieftain’s ban- 
ner in an ancient battle, may be seen any sederunt 
day betwixt nine and ten, high towering above all 
the fluctuating and changeful scene in the Outer- 
House, where his eccentricities often make him the 
centre of a group of petulant and teasing boys, who 
exercise upon him every art of ingenious torture. 
His countenance, originally that of a portly, comely 
burgess, is now emaciated with poverty and anxiety, 
and rendered wild by an insane lghtness about 
the eyes; a withered and blighted skin and com- 
plexion; features begrimed with snuff, charged 
with the self-importance peculiar to insanity; and 
a habit of perpetually speaking to himself. Such 
was my unfortunate client; and I must allow, 
Darsie, that my profession had need to do a great 
deal of good, if, as is much to be feared, it brings 
many individuals to such a pass. 

After we had been, with a good deal of form, 
presented to each other, at which time I easily saw 
by my father’s manner that he was desirous of sup- 
porting Peter’s character in my eyes, as much as 
circumstances would permit, ‘“‘ Alan,” he said, “ this 
is the gentleman who has agreed to accept of you 
as his counsel, in place of young Dumtoustie.” 

“Entirely out of favour to my old acquaintance 
your father,” said Peter, with a benign and _ patro- 
nising countenance, “out of respect to your father, 
and my old intimacy with Lord Bladderskate. 
Otherwise, by the Regiam Majestatem! I would 
have presented a petition and complaint against 


204 REDGAUNTLET. 


Daniel Dumtoustie, Advocate, by name and sur- 
name — I would, by all the practiques!—I know 
the forms of process; and I am not to be trifled 
with.” 

My father here interrupted my client, and 
reminded him that there was a good deal of business 
to do, as he proposed to give the young counsel an 
outline of the state of the conjoined process, with 
a view to letting him into the merits of the cause, 
disencumbered from the points of form. “I have 
made a short abbreviate, Mr. Peebles,’ said he; 
“having sat up late last night, and employed much 
of this morning in wading through these papers, 
to save Alan some trouble, and Iam now about to 
state the result.” 

“JT will state it myself,” said Peter, breaking in 
without reverence upon his solicitor. 

“No, by no means,” said my father; “I am your 
agent for the time.” 

“Mine eleventh in number,” said Peter; “I have 
a new one every year; I wish I could geta new 
coat as regularly.” 

“Your agent for the time,” resumed my father; 
‘and you, who are acquainted with the forms, 
know that the client states the cause to the agent 
—the agent to the counsel” 

“The counsel to the Lord Ordinary,” continued 
Peter, once set a-going, like the peal of an alarm 
clock, ‘‘the Ordinary to the Inner-House, the Pres- 
ident to the Bench. It is just like the rope to the 
man, the man to the axe, the axe to the ox, the ox 
to the water, the water to the fire” 

“Hush, for Heaven’s sake, Mr. Peebles,” said my 
father, cutting his recitation short; “time wears 
on—we must get to business—you must not 








REDGAUNTLET. 205 


interrupt the court, you know. — Hem,hem! From 
this abbreviate it appears” 

“Before you begin,’ said Peter Peebles, “Tl 
thank you to order me a morsel of bread and cheese, 
or some cauld meat, or broth, or the like aliment- 
ary provision; I was so anxious to see your son, 
that I could not eat a mouthful of dinner.” 

Heartily glad, I believe, to have so good a chance. 
of stopping his client’s mouth effectually, my father 
ordered some cold meat; to which James Wilkin- 
son, for the honour of the house, was about to add 
the brandy bottle, which remained on the sideboard, 
but, at a wink from my father, supplied its place 
with small beer. Peter charged the provisions with 
the rapacity of a famished lion; and so well did 
the diversion engage him, that though, while my 
father stated the case, he looked at him repeat- 
edly, as if he meant to interrupt his statement, yet 
he always found more agreeable employment for 
his mouth, and returned to the cold beef with an 
avidity which convinced me he had not had such an 
opportunity for many a day of satiating his appe- 
tite. Omitting much formal phraseology, and many 
legal details, I will endeavour to give you, in 
exchange for your fiddler’s tale, the history of a lit- 
igant, or rather, the history of his lawsuit. 

“Peter Peebles and Paul Plainstanes,” said my 
father, “entered into partnership, in the year ; 
as mercers and linendrapers, in the Luckenbooths, 
and carried on a great line of business to mutual 
advantage. But the learned counsel needeth not 
to be told, soczetas est mater discordiarum, partner- 
ship oft makes pleaship. The company being dis- 
solved by mutual consent, in the year , the 
affairs had to be wound up, and after certain 











206 REDGAUNTLET. 


attempts to settle the matter extrajudicially, it was 
at last brought into the Court, and has branched 
out into several distinct processes, most of whilk 
have been conjoined by the Ordinary, It is to the 
state of these processes that counsel’s attention is 
particularly directed. There is the original action 
of Peebles v, Plainstanes, convening him for pay- 
ment of L.3000, less or more, as alleged balance 
due by Plainstanes. 2dly, There is a counter 
action, in which Plainstanes is pursuer and Peebles 
defender, for L.2500, less or more, being balance 
alleged per contra, to be due by Peebles. 3dly, 
Mr, Peebles’s seventh agent advised an action of 
Compt and Reckoning at his instance, wherein what 
balance should prove due on either side might be 
fairly struck and ascertained. 4thly, To meet the 
hypothetical case, that Peebles might be found liable 
in a balance to Plainstanes, Mr. Wildgoose, Mr. 
Peebles’s eighth agent, recommended a Multiple- 
poinding, to bring all parties concerned into the 
field.” 

My brain was like to turn at this account of 
lawsuit within lawsuit, like a nest of chip-boxes, 
with all of which I was expected to make myself 
acquainted. 

“T understand,” I said, “that Mr. Peebles claims 
a sum of money from Plainstanes— how then can 
he be his debtor? and if not his debtor, how can he 
bring a Multiplepoinding, the very summons of 
which sets forth, that the pursuer does owe certain 
monies, which he is desirous to pay by warrant of 
a judge?” 1 

“Ve know little of the matter, I doubt, friend,” 


1 Multiplepoinding is, I believe, equivalent to what is called in 
England a case of Double Distress. 


REDGAUNTLET. 207 


said Mr. Peebles; “a Multiplepoinding is the safest 
remedium juris in the whole form of process. I 
have known it conjoined with a declarator of mar- 
riage. — Your beef is excellent,” he said to my father, 
who in vain endeavoured to resume his legal dis- 
quisition ; “but something highly powdered — and 
the twopenny is undeniable; but it is small swipes 
—small swipes —more of hop than malt — with 
your leave [ll try your black bottle.” 

My father started to help him with his own hand, 
and in due measure; but, infinitely to my amuse- 
ment, Peter got possession of the bottle by the 
neck, and my father’s ideas of hospitality were far 
too scrupulous to permit his attempting, by any 
direct means, to redeem it; so that Peter returned to 
the table triumphant, with his prey in his clutch. 

“ Better have a wine-glass, Mr. Peebles,” said my 
father, in an admonitory tone, “ you will find it 
pretty strong.” 

“Tf the kirk is ower muckle, we can sing mass 
in the quire,’ said Peter, helping himself in the 
goblet out of which he had been drinking the small 
beer. “What is it, usquebanugh ?— BRANDY, as I 
am an honest man! I had almost forgotten the 
name and taste of brandy. — Mr. Fairford elder, 
your good health,” (a mouthful of brandy) — “ Mr. 
Alan Fairford, wishing you well through your ardu- 
ous undertaking,” (another go-down of the comfort- 
able liquor.) “And now, though you have given a 
tolerable breviate of this great lawsuit, of whilk 
every body has heard something that has walked 
the boards in the Outer-House, (here’s to ye again, 
by way of interim decreet,) yet ye have omitted 
to speak a word of the arrestments.” 

“T was just coming to that point, Mr. Peebles.” 


208 REDGAUNTLET. 


“Or of the action of suspension of the charge on 
the bill.” 

“T was just coming to that.” 

“ Or the advocation of the Sheriff-Court process.” 

“T was just coming to it.” 

“As Tweed comes to Melrose, I think,” said 
the litigant; and then filling his goblet about a 
quarter full of brandy, as if in absence of mind, 
“Oh, Mr. Alan Fairford, ye are a lucky man to 
buckle to such a cause as mine at the very outset! 
it is like a specimen of all causes, man. By the 
Regiam, there is not a remedium juris in the prac- 
tiques but ye’ll find a spice o’t. Here’s to your 
eetting weel through with it — Pshut — I am drink- 
ing naked spirits, 1 think. But if the heathen be 
ower strong, we'll christen him with the brewer,” 
(here he added a little small beer to his beverage, 
paused, rolled his eyes, winked, and proceeded, ) — 
“Mr. Fairford — the action of assault and battery, 
Mr. Fairford, when I compelled the villain Plain- 
stanes to pull my nose within two steps of King 
Charles’s statue, in the Parliament Close — there 
I had him in a hose-net. Never man could tell me 
how to shape that process —no counsel that ever 
selled wind could condescend and say whether it 
were best to proceed by way of petition and com- 
plaint, ad vindictam publicam, with consent of his 
Majesty’s advocate, or by action on the statute for 
battery, pendente lite, whilk would be the winning 
my plea at once, and so getting a back-door out of 
Court. — By the Regiam, that beef and brandy is 
unco het at my heart —I maun try the ale again,” 
(sipped a little beer); ‘‘and the ale’s but cauld, I 
maun e’en put in the rest of the brandy.” 

He was as good as his word, and proceeded in so 


REDGAUNTLET. 209 


loud and animated a style of elocution, thumping 
the table, drinking and snuffing alternately, that 
my father, abandoning all attempts to interrupt 
him, sat silent and ashamed, suffering and anxious 
for the conclusion of the scene. 

“And then to come back to my pet process of 
all — my battery and assault process, when I had the 
good luck to provoke him to pull my nose at the 
very threshold of the Court, whilk was the very 
thing I wanted — Mr. Pest, ye ken him, Daddie 
Fairford? Old Pest was for making it out hame-suc- 
ken, for he said the Court might be said — said — 
ugh!—to be my dwelling-place. I dwell mair 
there than ony gate else, and the essence of hame- 
sucken is to strike a man in his dwelling-place — 
mind that, young advocate — and so there’s hope 
Plainstanes may be hanged, as many has for a less 
matter; for, my Lords, — will Pest say to the Jus- 
ticiary bodies,— my Lords, the Parliament House 
is Peebles’s place of dwelling, says he — being com- 
mune forum, and commune forum est commune domi- 
culvum — Lass, fetch another glass of whisky, and 
score it — time to gae hame — by the practiques, I 
cannot find the jug—yet there’s twa of them, I 
think. Bythe Regiam, Fairford — Daddie Fairford 
—lend us twal pennies to buy sneeshing, mine is 
done — Macer, call another cause.” 

The box fell from his hands, and his body would 
at the same time have fallen from the chair, had I 
not supported him. 

“This is intolerable,” said my father — “Call a 
chairman, James Wilkinson, to carry this degraded, 
worthless, drunken beast home.” 

When Peter Peebles was removed from this 
memorable consultation, under the care of an able- 

VOL. I1.— 14 


210 REDGAUNTLET. 


bodied Celt, my father hastily bundled up the 
papers, as a showman, whose exhibition has mis- 
carried, hastes to remove his booth. ‘“ Here are 
my memoranda, Alan,’ he said, in a hurried way ; 
“look them carefully over — compare them with the 
processes, and turn it in your head before Tuesday. 
Many a good speech has been made for a beast of a 
client ;and hark ye, lad, hark ye —I never intended 
to cheat you of your fee when all was done, though 
I would have liked to have heard the speech first; 
but there is nothing like corning the horse before 
the journey. Here are five goud guineas in a silk 
purse — of your poor mother’s netting, Alan — she 
would have been a blithe woman to have seen her 
young son with a gown on his back — but no more 
of that —be a good boy, and to the work like a 
tiger.” 

I did set to work, Darsie; for who could resist 
such motives? With my father’s assistance, I have 
mastered the details, confused as they are; and on 
Tuesday, I shall plead as well for Peter Peebles, as 
I could fora duke. Indeed, I feel my head so clear 
on the subject, as to be able to write this long letter 
to you; into which, however, Peter and his law- 
suit have insinuated themselves so far, as to show 
you how much they at present occupy my thoughts. 
Once more, be careful of yourself, and mindful of 
me, who am ever thine, while 

ALAN FAIRFORD. 


From circumstances, to be hereafter mentioned, it 
was long ere this letter reached the person to whom 
it was addressed. 


CHAPTER I. 
NARRATIVE. 


THE advantage of laying before the reader, in the! 

words of the actors themselves, the adventures| 
which we must otherwise have narrated in our own, | 
has given great popularity to the publication of ee | 
tolary correspondence, as practised by various great | 
authors, and by ourselves in the preceding chapters. | 


Nevertheless, a genuine correspondence of this | 


kind (and Heaven forbid it should be in any respect | 
sophisticated by interpolations of our own!) can | 


seldom be found to contain all in which it is neces- | 


sary to instruct the reader for his full comprehension 


i 
i 


of the story. Also it must often happen that vari- | 
ous prolixities and redundancies occur in the course | 


of an interchange of letters, which must hang as a 
dead weight on the progress of the narrative. To 
avoid this dilemma, some biographers have used 
the letters of the personages concerned, or liberal 
extracts from them, to describe particular pene | 
or express the sentiments which they entertained ; 
while they connect them occasionally with rane 
portions of narrative, as may serve to carry on the) 
thread of the story. 

It is thus that the adventurous travellers ho 
explore the summit of Mont Blanc, now move on 
through the crumbling snow-drift so slowly, that 
their progress is almost imperceptible, and anon 
abridge their journey by springing over the inter- 


212 REDGAUNTLET. 


vening chasms which cross their path, with the 
assistance of their pilgrim-staves. Or, to make a 
briefer simile, the course of story-telling which we 
have for the present adopted, resembles the original 
discipline of the dragoons, who were trained to 
serve either on foot or horseback, as the emergen- 
cies of the service required. With this explanation, 
we shall proceed to narrate some circumstances 
which Alan Fairford did not, and could not, write 
to his correspondent. 

Our reader, we trust, has formed somewhat 
approaching to a distinct idea of the principal char- 
acters who have appeared before him during our 
narrative ; but in case our good opinion of his saga- 
city has been exaggerated, and in order to satisfy 
such as are addicted to the laudable practice of 
skipping, (with whom we have at times a strong 
fellow-feeling,) the following particulars may not 
be superfluous. 

Mr. Saunders Fairford, as he was usually called, 
was a man of business of the old school, moderate 
in his charges, economical and even niggardly in his 
expenditure, strictly honest in conducting his own 
affairs, and those of his clients, but taught by long 
experience to be wary and suspicious in observing 
the motions of others. Punctual as the clock of 
Saint Giles tolled nine, the neat dapper form of 
the little hale old gentleman was seen at the thres- 
hold of the Court hall, or at farthest, at the head of 
the Back Stairs, trimly dressed in a complete suit 
of snuff-coloured brown, with stockings of silk or 
woollen, as suited the weather; a bobwig, and a 
small cocked hat; shoes blacked as Warren would 
have blacked them ; silver shoe-buckles, and a gold 
stock-buckle. A nosegay in summer, and a sprig of 


REDGAUNTLET. 213 


holly in winter, completed his well-known dress and 
appearance. His manners corresponded with his 
attire, for they were scrupulously civil, and not a 
little formal. He was an elder of the kirk, and, of 
course, zealous for King George and the govern- 
ment even to slaying, as he had showed by taking up 
arms in their cause. But then, as he had clients and 
connexions of business among families of opposite 
political tenets, he was particularly cautious to use 
all the conventional phrases which the civility of 
the time had devised, as an admissible mode of 
language betwixt the two parties. Thus he spoke 
sometimes of the Chevalier, but never either of the 
Prince, which would have been sacrificing his own 
principles, or of the Pretender, which would have 
been offensive to those of others. Again, he usually 
designated the Rebellion as the affair of 1745, 
and spoke of any one engaged in it as a person who 
had been owt at a certain period.! So that, on the 
whole, Mr. Fairford was a man much liked and 
respected on all sides, though his friends would not 
have been sorry if he had given a dinner more fre- 
quently, as his little cellar contained some choice 
old wine, of which, on such rare occasions, he was 
no niggard. 

The whole pleasure of this good old-fashioned 
man of method, besides that which he really felt in 
the discharge of his daily business, was the hope to 


1 OLD-FASHIONED ScorrisH Crvitiry.— Such were literally 
the points of politeness observed in general society during the 
author’s youth, where it was by no means unusual in a company 
assembled by chance, to find individuals who had borne arms on 
one side or other in the civil broils of 1745. Nothing, according 
to my recollection, could be more gentle and decorous than the 
respect these old enemies paid to each other’s prejudices. But in 
this I speak generally. I have witnessed one or two explosions. 


214 REDGAUNTLET. 


see his son Alan, the only fruit of a union which 
death early dissolved, attain what in the father’s 
eyes was the proudest of all distinctions —the rank 
and fame of a well-employed lawyer. 

Every profession has its peculiar honours, and Mr. 
Fairford’s mind was constructed upon so limited and 
exclusive a plan, that he valued nothing, save the 
objects of ambition which his own presented. He 
would have shuddered at Alan’s acquiring the 
renown of a hero, and laughed with scorn at the 
equally barren laurels of literature; it was by 
the path of the law alone that he was desirous 
to see him rise to eminence, and the probabilities 
of success or disappointment were the thoughts of 
his father by day, and his dream by night. 

The disposition of Alan Fairford, as well as his 
talents, were such as to encourage his father’s 
expectations. He had acuteness of intellect, joined 
to habits of long and patient study, improved no 
doubt by the discipline of his father’s house; to 
which, generally speaking, he conformed with the 
utmost docility, expressing no wish for greater or 
more frequent relaxation than consisted with his 
father’s anxious and severe restrictions. When he 
did indulge in any juvenile frolics, his father had 
the candour to lay the whole blame upon his more 
mercurial companion, Darsie Latimer. 

This youth, as the reader must be aware, had 
been received as an inmate into the family of Mr. 
Fairford, senior, at a time when some of the deli- 
cacy of constitution which had abridged the life of 
his consort, began to show itself in the son, and 
when the father was, of course, peculiarly disposed 
to indulge his slightest wish. That the young Eng- 
lishman was able to pay a considerable. board, was 


REDGAUNTLET. ai 


a matter of no importance to Mr. Fairford; it was 
enough that his presence seemed to make his son 
cheerful and happy. He was compelled to allow 
that “ Darsie was a fine lad, though unsettled,” and 
he would have had some difficulty in getting rid 
of him, and the apprehensions which his levities 
excited, had it not been for the voluntary excursion 
which gave rise to the preceding correspondence, 
and in which Mr. Fairford secretly rejoiced, as 
affording the means of separating Alan from his 
gay companion, at least until he should have 
assumed, and become accustomed to, the duties 
of his dry and laborious profession. 

But the absence of Darsie was far from promoting 
the end which the elder Mr. Fairford had expected 
and desired. The young men were united by the 
closest bonds of intimacy; and the more so, that 
neither of them sought nor desired to admit any 
others into their society. Alan Fairford was averse 
to general company, from a disposition naturally 
reserved, and Darsie Latimer from a painful sense 
of his own unknown origin, peculiarly afflicting in 
a country where high and low are professed genea- 
logists. The young men were all in all to each 
other; it is no wonder, therefore, that their separa- 
tion was painful, and that its effects upon Alan 
Fairford, joined to the anxiety occasioned by the 
tenor of his friend’s letters, greatly exceeded what 
the senior had anticipated. The young man went 
through his usual duties, his studies, and the exam- 
inations to which he was subjected, but with nothing 
like the zeal and assiduity which he had formerly 
displayed ; and his anxious and observant father 
saw but too plainly that his heart was with his 
absent comrade. 


216 REDGAUNTLET. 


A philosopher would have given way to this tide 
of feeling, in hopes to have diminished its excess, 
and permitted the youths to have been some time 
together, that their intimacy might have been broken 
off by degrees; but Mr. Fairford only saw the more 
direct mode of continued restraint, which, however, 
he was desirous of veiling under some plausible pre- 
text. In the anxiety which he felt on this occasion, 
he had held communication with an old acquaint- 
ance, Peter Drudgeit, with whom the reader is partly 
acquainted. “Alan,” he said, “was ance wud, and 
aye waur; and he was expecting every moment 
when he would start off in a wildgoose-chase after 
the callant Latimer; Will Sampson, the horse-hirer 
in Candlemaker Row, had given him a hint that 
Alan had been looking for a good hack, to go to the 
country for a few days. And then to oppose him 
downright — he could not but think on the way his 
poor mother was removed — Would to Heaven he 
was yoked to some tight piece of business, no mat- 
ter whether well or ill-paid, but some job that would 
hamshackle him at least until the Courts rose, if it 
were but for decency’s sake.” 

Peter Drudgeit sympathized, for Peter had a son, 
who, reason or none, would needs exchange the torn 
and inky fustian sleeves for the blue jacket and 
white lapelle; and he suggested, as the reader 
knows, the engaging our friend Alan in the mat- 
ter of Poor Peter Peebles, just opened by the 
desertion of young Dumtoustie, whose defection 
would be at the same time concealed; and this, 
Drudgeit said, “would be felling two dogs with 
one stone.” 

With these explanations, the reader will hold a 
man of the elder Fairford’s sense and experience 


REDGAUNTLET. 217 


free from the hazardous and impatient curiosity 
with which boys fling a puppy into a deep pond, 
merely to see if the creature can swim. However 
confident in his son’s talents, which were really 
considerable, he would have been very sorry to 
have involved him in the duty of pleading a com- 
plicated and difficult case, upon his very first 
appearance at the bar, had he not resorted to it 
as an effectual way to prevent the young man from 
taking a step, which his habits of thinking repre- 
sented as a most fatal one at his outset of life. 

Betwixt two evils, Mr. Fairford chose that which 
was in his own apprehension the least; and, like a 
brave officer sending forth his son to battle, rather 
chose he should die upon the breach, than desert 
the conflict with dishonour. Neither did he leave 
him to his own unassisted energies. Like Alpheus 
preceding Hercules, he himself encountered the 
Augean mass of Peter Peebles’s law-matters. It 
was to the old man a labour of love to place ina 
clear and undistorted view the real merits of this 
case, which the carelessness and blunders of Peter’s 
former solicitors had converted into a huge chaotic 
mass of unintelligible technicality; and such was 
his skill and industry, that he was able, after the 
severe toil of two or three days, to present to the 
consideration of the young counsel the principal 
facts of the case, in a light equally simple and com- 
prehensible. With the assistance of a solicitor so 
affectionate and indefatigable, Alan Fairford was 
enabled, when the day of trial arrived, to walk 
towards the Court, attended by his anxious yet 
encouraging parent, with some degree of confidence 
that he would lose no reputation upon this arduous 
occasion. 


218 REDGAUNTLET. 


They were met at the door of the Court by Poor 
Peter Peebles in his usual plenitude of wig and 
celsitude of hat. He seized on the young pleader 
like a lion on his prey. ‘‘ How is a’ wi’ you, Mr. 
Alan — how is a wi’ you, man?—The awfuw’ day 
is come at last —a day that will be lang minded 
in this house. Poor Peter Peebles against Plain- 
stanes — conjoined processes — Hearing in presence 
—stands for the Short Roll for this day —I have 
not been able to sleep for a week for thinking of it, 
and, I dare to say, neither has the Lord President 
himsell — for such a cause!! But your father garr’d 
me tak a wee drap ower muckle of his pint bottle 
the other night; it’s no right to mix brandy wi 
business, Mr. Fairford. I would have been the 
waur 0’ liquor if I would have drank as muckle 
as you twa would have had me. But there’s a 
time for a’ things, and if ye will dine with me after 
the case is heard, or, whilk is the same, or maybe 
better, 777 gang my ways hame wi’ you, and I winna 
object to a cheerfu’ glass, within the bounds of 
moderation.” 

Old Fairford shrugged his shoulders and hurried 
past the client, saw his son wrapt in the sable 
bombazine, which, in his eyes, was more venerable 
than an archbishop’s lawn, and could not help 
fondly patting his shoulder, and whispering to 
him to take courage, and show he was worthy to 
wear it. The party entered the Outer Hall of the 
Court, once the place of meeting of the ancient 
Scottish Parhament, and which corresponds to the 
use of Westminster Hall in England, serving as a 
vestibule to the Inner-House, as it is termed, and 
a place of dominion to certain sedentary person- 
ages called Lords Ordinary. 


REDGAUNTLET. 219 


The earlier part of the morning was spent by 
old Fairford in reiterating his instructions to Alan, 
and in running from one person to another, from 
whom he thought he could still glean some grains 
of information, either concerning the point at issue, 
or collateral cases. Meantime, Poor Peter Peebles, 
whose shallow brain was altogether unable to bear 
the importance of the moment, kept as close to his 
young counsel as shadow to substance, affected now 
to speak loud, now to whisper in his ear, now to deck 
his ghastly countenance with wreathed smiles, now 
to cloud it with a shade of deep and solemn import- 
ance, and anon to contort it with the sneer of scorn 
and derision. These moods of the clent’s mind were 
accompanied with singular “mopings and mowings,” 
fantastic gestures, which the man of rags and litiga- 
tion deemed appropriate to his changes of counte- 
nance. Now he brandished his arm aloft, now thrust 
his fist straight out, as if to knock his opponent 
down. Now he laid his open palm on his bosom, 
and now flinging it abroad, he gallantly snapped 
his fingers in the air. 

These demonstrations, and the obvious shame 
and embarrassment of Alan Fairford, did not escape 
the observation of the juvenile idlers in the hall. 
They did not, indeed, approach Peter with their 
usual familiarity, from some feeling of deference 
towards Fairford, though many accused him of 
conceit in presuming to undertake at this early 
stage of his practice a case of considerable difficulty. 
But Alan, notwithstanding this forbearance, was 
not the less sensible that he and his companion 
were the subjects of many a passing jest, and many 
a shout of laughter, with which that region at all 
times abounds. 


220 REDGAUNTLET. 


At length the young counsel’s patience gave way, 
and as it threatened to carry his presence of mind 
and recollection along with it, Alan frankly told 
his father, that unless he was relieved from the 
infliction of his client’s personal presence and 
instructions, he must necessarily throw up his 
brief, and decline pleading the case. 

“Hush, hush, my dear Alan,” said the old gentle- 
man, almost at his own wit’s end upon hearing 
this dilemma; ‘“dinna mind the silly ne’er-do-weel ; 
we cannot keep the man from hearing his own 
cause, though he be not quite right in the head.” 

“On my life, sir,’ answered Alan, “I shall be 
unable to go on, he drives every thing out of my 
remembrance; and if I attempt to speak seriously 
of the injuries he has sustained, and the condition 
he is reduced to, how can I expect but that the 
very appearance of such an absurd scarecrow will 
turn it all into ridicule?” 

“There is something in that,’ said Saunders 
Fairford, glancing a look at Poor Peter, and then 
cautiously inserting his forefinger under his bobwig, 
in order to rub his temple and aid his invention ; 
“he is no figure for the fore-bar to see without 
laughing; but how to get rid of him? To speak 
sense, or any thing like it,is the last thing he 
will listen to. —Stay, ay— Alan, my darling, hae 
patience; Tll get him off on the instant, like a 
gowlf ba’.” 

So saying, he hastened to his ally, Peter Drud- 
geit, who, on seeing him with marks of haste in 
his gait, and care upon his countenance, clapped 
his pen behind his ear, with “ What’s the stir now, 
Mr. Saunders ?— Is there aught wrang?” 

“ Here’s a dollar, man,” said Mr. Saunders; “now, 


REDGAUNTLET. 221 


or never, Peter, do me a good turn. Yonder’s your 
namesake, Peter Peebles, will drive the swine 
through our bonny hanks of yarn;* get him over 
to John’s Coffee-house, man — gie him his meridian 
—keep him there, drunk or sober, till the hearing 
is ower.” : 

“Eneugh said,” quoth Peter Drudgeit, no way 
displeased with his own share in the service 
required, — “We’se do your bidding.” 

Accordingly, the scribe was presently seen whis- 
pering in the ear of Peter Peebles, whose responses 
came forth in the following broken form : — 

“Leave the Court for ae minute on this great 
day of judgment? — not I, by the Reg Eh! 
what? Brandy, did ye say — French Brandy ? — 
couldna ye fetch a stoup to the bar under your 
coat, man ? — Impossible? Na, if it’s clean impos- 
sible, and if we have an hour good till they get 
through the single bills and the summar-roll, I 
carena if I cross the close wi’ you; I am sure I need 
something to keep my heart up this awful day; 
but Tll no stay above an instant — not above a 
minute of time—nor drink aboon .a single gill.” 

In a few minutes afterwards, the two Peters were 
seen moving through the Parliament Close, ( which 
newfangled affectation has termed a Square,) the 
triumphant Drudgeit leading captive the passive 
Peebles, whose legs conducted him towards the 
dram-shop, while his reverted eyes were fixed upon 
the Court. They dived into the Cimmerian abysses 





1 The simile is obvious, from the old manufacture of Scotland, 
when the guidwife’s thrift, as the yarn wrought in the winter was 
called, when laid down to bleach by the burn-side, was peculiarly 
exposed to the inroads of the pigs, seldom well-regulated about a 
Scottish farm-house. 


222 REDGAUNTLET. 


of John’s Coffee-house,! formerly the favourite ren- 
dezvous of the classical and genial Doctor Pitcairn, 
and were for the present seen no more. 

Relieved from his tormentor, Alan Fairford had 
time to rally his recollections, which, in the irrita- 
tion of his spirits, had nearly escaped him, and to 
prepare himself for a task, the successful discharge 
or failure in which must, he was aware, have the 
deepest influence upon his fortunes. He had pride, 
was not without a consciousness of talent, and the 
sense of his father’s feelings upon the subject 
impelled him to the utmost exertion. Above all, 
he had that sort of self-command which is essential 
to success in every arduous undertaking, and he 
was constitutionally free from that feverish irritabil- 
ity, by which those whose over-active imaginations 
exaggerate difficulties, render themselves incapable 
of encountering such when they arrive. 

Having collected all the scattered and broken 
associations which were necessary, Alan’s thoughts 
reverted to Dumfries-shire, and the precarious situa- 
tion in which he feared his beloved friend had 
placed himself; and once and again he consulted 


1 This small dark coffeehouse, now burnt down, was the resort 
of such writers and clerks belonging to the Parliament House above 
thirty years ago, as retained the ancient Scottish custom of a meri- 
dian, as it was called, or noontide dram of spirits. If their 
proceedings were watched, they might be seen to turn fidgety 
about the hour of noon, and exchange looks with each other 
from their separate desks, till at length some one of formal and 
dignified presence assumed the honour of leading the band, when 
away they went, threading the crowd like a string of wild-fowl, 
crossed the square or close, and following each other into the 
coffeehouse, received in turn from the hand of the waiter, the 
meridian, which was placed ready at the bar. This they did, day 
by day: and though they did not speak to each other, they seemed 
to attach a certain degree of sociability to performing the cere- 
mony in company. 


REDGAUNTLET. 223 


his watch, eager to have his present task commenced 
and ended, that he might hasten to Darsie’s assist- 
ance. The hour and moment at length arrived. 
The Macer shouted, with all his well-remembered 
brazen strength of lungs, “Poor Peter Peebles 
versus Plainstanes, per Dumtoustie e¢ Tough: — 
Maister Da-a-niel Dumtoustie!” Dumtoustie an- 
swered not the summons, which, deep and swelling 
as it was, could not reach across the Queensferry ; 
but our Maister Alan Fairford appeared in his 
place. 

The Court was very much crowded; for much 
amusement had been received on former occasions 
when Peter had volunteered his own oratory, and 
had been completely successful in routing the 
eravity of the whole procedure, and putting to 
silence, not indeed the counsel of the opposite 
party, but his own. 

Both bench and audience seemed considerably 
surprised at the juvenile appearance of the young 
man who appeared in the room of Dumtoustie, for 
the purpose of opening this complicated and long 
depending process, and the common herd were dis- 
appointed at the absence of Peter the client, the 
Punchinello of the expected entertainment. The 
Judges looked with a very favourable countenance 
on our friend Alan, most of them being acquainted, 
more or less, with so old a practitioner as his father, 
and all, or almost all, affording, from civility, the 
same fair play to the first pleading of a counsel, 
which the House of Commons yields to the maiden 
speech of one of its members. 

Lord Bladderskate was an exception to this 
general expression of benevolence. He scowled 
upon Alan from beneath his large, shaggy, grey 


224 REDGAUNTLET. 


eyebrows, just as if the young lawyer had been 
usurping his nephew’s honours, instead of covering 
his disgrace ; and, from feelings which did his lord- 
ship little honour, he privately hoped the young 
man would not succeed in the cause which his 
kinsman had abandoned. 

Even Lord Bladderskate, however, was, in spite 
of himself, pleased with the judicious and modest 
tone in which Alan began his address to the Court, 
apologizing for his own presumption, and excusing 
it by the sudden illness of his learned brother, for 
whom the labour of opening a cause of some diffi- 
culty and importance had been much more worthily 
designed. He spoke of himself as he really was, 
and of young Dumtoustie as what he ought to have 
been, taking care not to dwell on either topic a 
moment longer than was necessary. The old 
Judge’s looks became benign; his family pride 
was propitiated, and, pleased equally with the 
modesty and civility of the young man whom he 
had thought forward and officious, he relaxed the 
scorn of his features into an expression of pro- 
found attention; the highest compliment, and the 
ereatest encouragement, which a judge can render 
to the counsel addressing him. 

Having succeeded in securing the favourable atten- 
tion of the Court, the young lawyer, using the lights 
which his father’s experience and knowledge of busi- 
ness had afforded him, proceeded with an address and 
clearness, unexpected from one of his years, to remove 
from the case itself those complicated formalities 
with which it had been loaded, as a surgeon strips 
from a wound the dressings which have been hastily 
wrapped round it, in order to proceed to his cure 
secundum artem. Developed of the cumbrous and 


REDGAUNTLET. 22% 


complicated technicalities of litigation, with which 
the perverse obstinacy of the client, the inconsider- 
ate haste or ignorance of his agents, and the evasions 
of a subtle adversary, had invested the process, the 
cause of Poor Peter Peebles, standing upon its simple 
merits, was no bad subject for the declamation of a 
young counsel, nor did our friend Alan fail to avail 
himself of its strong points. 

He exhibited his client as a simple-hearted, hon- 
est, well-meaning man, who, during a copartnership 
of twelve years, had gradually become impoverished, 
while his partner, (his former clerk,) having no funds 
but his share of the same business, into which he 
had been admitted without any advance of stock, 
had become gradually more and more wealthy. 

“ Their association,” said Alan, and the little flight 
was received with some applause, “resembled the 
ancient story of the fruit which was carved with 
a knife poisoned on one side of the blade only, so 
that the individual to whom the envenomed por- 
tion was served, drew decay and death from what 
afforded savour and sustenance to the consumer of 
the other moiety.” He then plunged boldly into 
the mare magnum of accompts between the parties; 
he pursued each false statement from the waste-book 
to the day-book, from the day-book to the bill-book, 
from the bill-book to the ledger; placed the artful 
interpolations and insertions of the fallacious Plain- 
stanes in array against each other, and against the 
fact; and, availing himself to the utmost of his 
father’s previous labours, and his own knowledge of 
accompts, in which he had been sedulously trained, 
he laid before the Court a clear and intelligible 
statement of the affairs of the copartnery, showing, 
with precision, that a large balance must, at the 

VOL. I.—15 


226 REDGAUNTLET. 


dissolution, have been due to his client, sufficient to 
have enabled him to have carried on business on his 
own account, and thus to have retained his situa- 
tion in society, as an independent and industrious 
tradesman. “But, instead of this justice being vol- 
untarily rendered by the former clerk to his former 
master,— by the party obliged to his benefactor,— by 
one honest man to another,— his wretched client had 
been compelled to follow his quondam clerk, his 
present debtor, from Court to Court; had found his 
just claims met with well-invented but unfounded 
counter-claims ; had seen his party shift his char- 
acter of pursuer or defender, as often as Harlequin 
effects his transformations, till, in a chase so varied 
and so long, the unhappy htigant had lost substance, 
reputation, and almost the use of reason itself, and 
came before their Lordships an object of thoughtless 
derision to the unreflecting, of compassion to the 
better-hearted, and of awful meditation to every one, 
who considered that, in a country where excellent 
laws were administered by upright and incorruptible 
judges, a man might pursue an almost indisputable 
claim through all the mazes of litigation ; lose for- 
tune, reputation, and reason itself in the chase, and 
at length come before the Supreme Court of his 
country in the wretched condition of his unhappy 
client, a victim to protracted justice, and to that 
hope delayed which sickens the heart.” 

The force of this appeal to feeling made as much 
impression on the Bench, as had been previously 
effected by the clearness of Alan’s argument. The 
absurd form of Peter himself, with his tow-wig, was 
fortunately not present to excite any ludicrous emo- 
tion, and the pause that took place when the young 
lawyer had concluded his speech, was followed by 


REDGAUNTLET. 22% 


a murmur of approbation, which the ears of his 
father drank in as the sweetest sounds that had 
ever entered them. Many a hand of gratulation 
was thrust out to his grasp, trembling as it was 
with anxiety, and finally with delight; his voice 
faltering, as he replied, “Ay, ay, I kend Alan was 
the lad to make a spoon or spoil a horn.” } 

The counsel on the other side arose, an old prac- 
titioner, who had noted too closely the impression 
made by Alan’s pleading, not to fear the conse- 
quences of an immediate decision. He paid the 
highest compliments to his very young brother — 
“the Benjamin, as he would presume to call him, 
of the learned Faculty — said the alleged hardships 
of Mr. Peebles were compensated, by his being 
placed in a situation where the benevolence of 
their Lordships had assigned him gratuitously such 
assistance as he might not otherwise have obtained 
at a high price — and allowed his young brother 
had put many things in such a new point of view, 
that, although he was quite certain of his ability to 
refute them, he was honestly desirous of having a 
few hours to arrange his answer, in order to be able 
to follow Mr. Fairford from point to point. He 
had further to observe, there was one point of the 
case to which his brother, whose attention had been 
otherwise so wonderfully comprehensive, had not 
given the consideration which he expected; it was 
founded on the interpretation of certain correspon- 
dence which had passed betwixt the parties, soon 
after the dissolution of the copartnery.” 

The Court having heard Mr. Tough, readily allowed 
him two days for preparing himself, hinting, at the 


1 Said of an adventurous gipsy, who resolves at all risks to con- 
vert a sheep’s horn into a spoon, 


228 REDGAUNTLET. 


same time, that he might find his task difficult, and 
affording the young counsel, with high encomiums 
upon the mode in which he had acquitted himself, 
the choice of speaking, either now or at next calling 
of the cause, upon the point which Plainstanes’s law- 
yer had adverted to. 

Alan modestly apologized for what in fact had 
been an omission very pardonable in so complicated 
a case, and professed himself instantly ready to go 
through that correspondence, and prove that it was 
in form and substance exactly applicable to the view 
of the case he had submitted to their lordships. He 
apphed to his father, who sat behind him, to hand 
him, from time to time, the letters, in the order in 
which he meant to read and comment upon them. 

Old Counsellor Tough had probably formed an 
ingenious enough scheme to blunt the effect of the 
young lawyer’s reasoning, by thus obliging him to 
follow up a process of reasoning, clear and complete 
in itself, by a hasty and extemporary appendix. If 
so, he seemed likely to be disappointed ; for Alan 
was well prepared on this, as on other parts of the 
cause, and recommenced his pleading with a degree 
of animation and spirit, which added force even to 
what he had formerly stated, and might perhaps 
have occasioned the old gentleman to regret his 
having again called him up; when his father, as 
he handed him the letters, put one into his hand 
which produced a singular effect on the pleader. 

At the first glance, he saw that the paper had no 
reference to the affairs of Peter Peebles; but the 
first glance also showed him, what, even at that 
time, and in that presence, he could not help read- 
ing; and which, being read, seemed totally to 
disconcert his ideas. He stopped short in his 


REDGAUNTLET. 229 


harangue — gazed on the paper with a look of sur- 
prise and horror —uttered an exclamation, and, 
flinging down the brief which he had in his hand, 
hurried out of Court without returning a single word 
of answer to the various questions, ‘‘ what was the 
matter?” —“Was he taken unwell?” — “Should 
not a chair be called?” &. &. &e. 

The elder Mr. Fairford, who remained seated, and 
looking as senseless as if he had been made of stone, 
was at length recalled to himself by the anxious 
enquiries of the judges and the counsel after his 
son’s health. He then rose with an air, in which 
was mingled the deep habitual reverence in which he 
held the Court, with some internal cause of agita- 
tion, and with difficulty mentioned something of a 
mistake —a piece of bad news — Alan, he hoped, 
would be well enough to-morrow. But unable to 
proceed farther, he clasped his hands together, 
exclaiming, “ My son! my son!” and left the court 
hastily, as if in pursuit of him. 

“ What’s the matter with the auld bitch next?” 
said an acute metaphysical judge, though somewhat 
coarse In his manners, aside to his brethren. “This 
is a daft cause, Bladderskate — first, it drives the 
poor man mad that aught it —then your nevoy goes 
daft with fright, and flies the pit — then this smart 
young hopeful is aff the hooks with too hard study, I 
fancy — and now auld Saunders Fairford is as lunatic 
as the best of them. What say ye till’t, ye bitch?” 

“ Nothing, my lord,” answered Bladderskate, much 
too formal to admire the levities in which his 
philosophical brother sometimes indulged — “I say 
nothing, but pray to Heaven to keep our own wits.” 


1 Tradition ascribes this whimsical style of language to the 
ingenious and philosophical Lord Kaimes. 


230 REDGAUNTLET. 


« Amen, amen,” answered his learned brother 
“for some of us have but few to spare.” 

The Court then arose, and the audience departed, 
greatly wondering at the talent displayed by Alan 
Fairford, at his first appearance, in a case so difficult 
and so complicated, and assigning an hundred con- 
jectural causes, each different from the others, for 
the singular interruption which had clouded his day 
of success. The worst of the whole was, that six 
agents, who had each come to the separate resolu- 
tion of thrusting a retaining fee into Alan’s hand as 
he left the court, shook their heads as they returned 
the money into their leathern pouches, and said, 
“that the lad was clever, but they would like to see 
more of him before they engaged him in the way of 
business — they did not like his lowping away like 
a flea in a blanket.” 


CHAPTER II. 


Hap our friend Alexander Fairford known the 
consequences of his son’s abrupt retreat from the 
Court, which are mentioned in the end of the last 
chapter, it might have accomplished the prediction 
of the lively old judge, and driven him utterly dis- 
tracted. As it was, he was miserable enough. His 
son had risen ten degrees higher in his estimation 
than ever, by his display of juridical talents, which 
seemed to assure him that the applause of the judges 
and professors of the law, which, in his estimation, 
was worth that of all mankind besides, authorized to 
the fullest extent the advantageous estimate which 
even his parental partiality had been induced to form 
of Alan’s powers. On the other hand, he felt that 
he was himself a little humbled, from a disguise 
which he had practised towards this son of his hopes 
and wishes. 

The truth was, that on the morning of this event- 
ful day, Mr. Alexander Fairford had received from 
his correspondent and friend, Provost Crosbie of 
Dumfries, a letter of the following tenor: — 


‘(DEAR Sir, — Your respected favour of 25th 
ultimo, per favour of Mr. Darsie Latimer, reached me 
in safety, and I showed to the young gentleman such 
attentions as he was pleased to accept of. The object 
of my present writing is twofold. First, the council 
are of opinion that you should now begin to stir in the 


232 REDGAUNTLET. 


thirlage cause ; and they think they will be able, from 
evidence noviter repertum, to enable you to amend 
your condescendence upon the use and wont of the 
burgh, touching the grana invecta et illata. So you 
will please consider yourself as authorized to speak to 
Mr. Pest, and lay before him the papers which you will 
receive by the coach. ‘The council think that a fee of 
two guineas may be sufficient on this occasion, as Mr. 
Pest had three for drawing the original condescendence. 
‘‘T take the opportunity of adding, that there has 
been a great riot among the Solway fishermen, who 
have destroyed, in a masterful manner, the stake-nets 
set up near the mouth of this river ; and have besides 
attacked the house of Quaker Geddes, one of the prin- 
cipal partners of the Tide-net Fishing Company, and 
done a great deal of damage. Am sorry to add, young 
Master Latimer was in the fray, and has not since 
been heard of. Murder is spoke of, but that may be a 
word of course. As the young gentleman has behaved 
rather oddly while in these parts, as in declining to 
dine with me more than once, and going about the 
country with strolling fiddlers and such-like, I rather 
hope that his present absence is only occasioned by a 
frolic ; but as his servant has been making enquiries of 
me respecting his master, I thought it best,to acquaint 
you in course of post. I have only to add, that our 
sheriff has taken a precognition, and committed one or 
two of the rioters. If I can be useful in this matter, 
either by advertising for Mr. Latimer as missing, pub- 
lishing a reward, or otherwise, I will obey your 
respected instructions, being your most obedient to 

command, 
‘‘ WILLIAM CROSBIE.”’ 


When Mr. Fairford received this letter, and had 
read it to an end, his first idea was to communicate ” 
it to his son, that an express might be instantly 


REDGAUNTLET. 233 


dispatched, or a King’s messenger sent with proper 
authority to search after his late guest. 

The habits of the fishers were rude, as he well 
knew, though not absolutely sanguinary or ferocious ; 
and there had been instances of their transporting 
persons who had interfered in their smuggling 
trade to the Isle of Man, and elsewhere, and keep- 
ing them under restraint for many weeks. On this 
account Mr. Fairford was naturally led to feel 
anxiety concerning the fate of his late inmate; and, 
at a less interesting moment, would certainly have 
set out himself, or licensed his son to go in pursuit 
of his friend. 

But, alas! he was both a father and an agent. 
In the one capacity, he looked on his son as dearer 
to him than all the world besides; in the other, 
the lawsuit which he conducted was to him like an 
infant to its nurse, and the case of Poor Peter Peebles 
against Plainstanes was, he saw, adjourned, perhaps 
sine die, should this document reach the hands of 
his son. The mutual and enthusiastical affection 
betwixt the young men was well known to him; 
and he concluded, that if the precarious state of 
Latimer were made known to Alan Fairford, it 
would render him not only unwilling, but totally 
unfit, to discharge the duty of the day, to which the 
old gentleman attached such ideas of importance. 

On mature reflection, therefore, he resolved, though 
not without some feelings of compunction, to delay 
communicating to his son the disagreeable intelli- 
gence which he had received, tntil the business of 
the day should be ended. The delay, he persuaded 
himself, could be of little consequence to Darsie 
Latimer, whose folly, he dared to say, had led him 
into some scrape which would meet an appropriate 


234 REDGAUNTLET. 


punishment, in some accidental restraint, which 
would be thus prolonged for only a few hours 
longer. Besides, he would have time to speak to 
the Sheriff of the county — perhaps to the King’s 
Advocate — and set about the matter in a regular 
manner, or, as he termed it, as summing up the 
duties of a solicitor, to agé as accords. 

The scheme, as we have seen, was partially suc- 
cessful, and was only ultimately defeated, as he 
confessed to himself with shame, by his own very 
unbusiness-like mistake of shuffling the Provost's 
letter, in the hurry and anxiety of the morning, 
among some papers belonging to Peter Peebles’s 
affairs, and then handing it to his son, without 
observing the blunder. He used to protest, even 
till the day of his death, that he never had been 
guilty of such an inaccuracy as giving a paper out 
of his hand without looking at the docketing, 
except on that unhappy occasion, when, of all 
others, he had such particular reason to regret his 
negligence. 

Disturbed by these reflections, the old gentleman 
had, for the first time in his life, some disinclina- 
tion, arising from shame and vexation, to face his 
own son; so that to protract for a little the meet- 
ing which he feared would be a painful one, he 
went to wait upon the Sheriff-depute, who he found 
had set off for Dumfries, in great haste, to superin- 
tend in person the investigation which had been set 
on foot by his Substitute. This gentleman’s clerk 
could say little on the subject of the riot, excepting 
that it had been serious, much damage done to pro- 
perty, and some personal violence offered to individ- 


1 A Scots law phrase of no very determinate import, meaning, 
generally, to do what is fitting. 


REDGAUNTLET. 235 


uals ; but, as far as he had yet heard, no lives lost 
on the spot. 

Mr. Fairford was compelled to return home with 
this intelligence ; and on enquiring at James Wil- 
kinson where his son was, received for answer, that 
“Maister Alan was in hisown room, and very busy.” 

“We must have our explanation over,’ said 
Saunders Fairford to himself. ‘“ Better a finger off, 
as aye wagging ;” and going to the door of his son’s 
apartment he knocked at first gently — then more 
loudly —but received no answer. Somewhat alarmed 
at this silence, he opened the door of the chamber 
— it was empty — clothes lay mixed in confusion 
with the Jaw-books and papers, as if the inmate 
had been engaged in hastily packing for a journey. 
As Mr. Fairford looked around in alarm, his eye 
was arrested by a sealed letter lying upon his son’s 
writing-table, and addressed to himself. It con- 
tained the following words : — 


‘‘My Drarest Fatuer, — You will not, I trust, 
be surprised, nor perhaps very much displeased, to learn 
that I am now on my way to Dumfries-shire, to learn, 
by my own personal investigation, the present state of 
my dear friend, and afford him such relief as may be 
in my power, and which, I trust, will be effectual. I 
do not presume to reflect upon you, dearest sir, for 
concealing from me information of so much consequence 
to my peace of mind and happiness ; but I hope your 
having done so will be, if not an excuse, at least some 
mitigation of my present offence, in taking a step of 
consequence without consulting your pleasure; and, I 
must further own, under circumstances which perhaps 
might lead to your disapprobation of my purpose. I 
can only say, in further apology, that if any thing 
unhappy, which Heaven forbid! shall have occurred to 


236 REDGAUNTLET. 


the person who, next to yourself, is dearest to me in 
this world, I shall have on my heart, as a subject of 
eternal regret, that being in a certain degree warned 
of his danger, and furnished with the means of obviating 
it, I did not instantly hasten to his assistance, but 
preferred giving my attention to the business of this 
unlucky morning. No view of personal distinction, 
nothing, indeed, short of your earnest and often 
expressed wishes, could have detained me in town till 
this day; and having made this sacrifice to filial duty, 
I trust you will hold me excused, if I now obey the 
calls of friendship and humanity. Do not be in the least 
anxious on my account; I shall know, I trust, how to 
conduct myself with due caution in any emergence 
which may occur, otherwise my legal studies for so 
many years have been to little purpose. I am fully 
provided with money, and also with arms, in case of 
need; but you may rely on my prudence in avoiding 
all occasions of using the latter, short of the last 
necessity. God Almighty bless you, my dearest father! 
and grant that you may forgive the first, and, I trust, the 
last act approaching towards premeditated disobedience, 
of which I either have now, or shall hereafter have, to 
accuse myself. I remain, till death, your dutiful and 
affectionate son, 

‘¢ ALAN FAIRFORD. 


«P.8,—I shall write with the utmost regularity, 
acquainting you with my motions, and requesting your 
advice. I trust my stay will be very short, and I think 
it possible that I may bring back Darsie along with 
me.”’ 


The paper dropped from the old man’s hand 
when he was thus assured of the misfortune which 
he apprehended. His first idea was to get a post- 
chaise and pursue the fugitive; but he recollected, 


REDGAUNTLET. 237 


that, upon the very rare occasions when Alan had 
shown himself indocile to the patria potestas, his 
natural ease and gentleness of disposition seemed 
hardened into obstinacy, and that now, entitled, as 
arrived at the years of majority, and a member of 
the learned Faculty, to direct his own motions, 
there was great doubt, whether, in the event of his 
overtaking his son, he might be able to prevail upon 
him to return back. In sucha risk of failure, he 
thought it wiser to desist from his purpose, espe- 
cially as even his success in such a pursuit would 
give a ridiculous éclat to the whole affair, which 
could not be otherwise than prejudicial to his son’s 
rising character. 

Bitter, however, were Saunders Fairford’s reflec- 
tions, as, again picking up the fatal scroll, he threw 
himself into his son’s leathern easy-chair, and 
bestowed upon it a disjointed commentary. “ Bring 
back Darsie ? little doubt of that — the bad shilling 
is sure enough to come back again. I wish Darsie 
no worse ill than that he were carried where the 
silly fool Alan should never see him again. It was 
an ill hour that he darkened my doors in, for, ever 
since that, Alan has given up his ain old-fashioned 
mother-wit, for the tother’s capernoited maggots 
and nonsense. — Provided with money? you must 
have more than I know of, then, my friend, for I 
trow I kept you pretty short for your own good. — 
Can he have gotten more fees? or, does he think 
five guineas has neither beginning nor end ?— Arms! 
What would he do with arms, or what would any 
man do with them that is not a regular soldier 
under government, or else a thief-taker? I have had 
enough of arms, I trow, although I carried them 
for King George and the government. But this 


238 REDGAUNTLET. 


is a worse strait than Falkirk-field yet! — God guide 
us, we are poor inconsistent creatures! To think 
the lad should have made so able an appearance, 
and then bolted off this gate, after a glaiket ne’er-do- 
weel, like a hound upon a false scent !— Las-a-day! 
it’s a sore thing to see a stunkard cow kick down the 
pail when it’s reaming fou. — But, afterall, it’s an 
ill bird that defiles its ain nest. I must cover up 
the scandal as well as I can. — What’s the matter 
now, James?” 

“A message, sir,” said James Wilkinson, “ from 
my Lord President; and he hopes Mr. Alan is not 
seriously indisposed.” 

“From the Lord President? the Lord preserve 
us ! — ]’ll send an answer this instant; bid the lad 
sit down, and ask him to drink, James. — Let me 
see,” continued he, taking a sheet of gilt paper, 
“how we are to draw our answers.” 

Ere his pen had touched the paper, James was in 
the room again. 

“ What now, James?” 

“Lord Bladderskate’s lad is come to ask how Mr. 
Alan is, as he left the Court ” 

“Ay, ay, ay,” answered Saunders, bitterly; “he 
has e’en made a moonlight flitting, like my lord’s 
ain nevoy.” 

“Shall I say sae, sir?” said James, who, as an 
old soldier, was literal in all things touching the 
service. 

“The devil! no, no! — Bid the lad sit down and 
taste ourale. I will write his lordship an answer.” 

Once more the gilt paper was resumed, and once 
more the door was opened by James. 

“Lord sends his servitor to ask after Mr. 
Alan.” 








REDGAUNTLET. 239 


“Oh, the deevil take their civility!” said poor 
Saunders. “Set him down to drink too—TI will 
write to his lordship.” 

“The lads will bide your pleasure, sir, as lang as 
I keep the bicker fou; but this ringing is lke to 
wear out the bell, I think; there are they at it 
again.” 

He answered the fresh summons accordingly, 
and came back to inform Mr. Fairford, that the 
Dean of Faculty was below, enquiring for Mr. 
Alan. —‘‘ Will I set him down to drink, too?”’ said 
James. 

“Will you be an idiot, sir?” said Mr. Fairford, 
“Show Mr. Dean into the parlour.” 

In going slowly down stairs, step by step, the 
perplexed man of business had time enough to 
reflect, that if it be possible to put a fair gloss upon 
a true story, the verity always serves the purpose 
better than any substitute which ingenuity can 
devise. He therefore told his learned visitor, that 
although his son had been incommoded by the 
heat of the court, and the long train of hard study, 
by day and night, preceding his exertions, yet he 
had fortunately so far recovered, as to be in condi- 
tion to obey upon the instant a sudden summons 
which had called him to the country, on a matter 
of life and death. 

“Tt should be a serious matter indeed that takes 
my young friend away at this moment,” said the 
good-natured Dean. “I wish he had staid to finish 
his pleading, and put down old Tough. Without 
compliment, Mr. Fairford, it was as fine a first 
appearance as I ever heard. I should be sorry 
your son did not follow itup in a reply. Nothing 
like striking while the iron is hot.” 


240 REDGAUNTLET. 


Mr. Saunders Fairford made a bitter grimace as 
he acquiesced in an opinion which was indeed 
decidedly his own; but he thought it most prudent 
to reply, “that the affair which rendered his son 
Alan’s presence in the country absolutely necessary, 
regarded the affairs of a young gentleman of great 
fortune, who was a particular friend of Alan’s, and 
who never took any material step in his affairs, 
without consulting his counsel learned in the law.” 

“Well, well, Mr. Fairford, you know best,” 
answered the learned Dean; “if there be death or 
marriage in the case, a will or a wedding is to be 
preferred to all other business. I am happy Mr. 
Alan is so much recovered as to be able for travel, 
and wish you a very good morning.” 

Having thus taken his ground to the Dean of 
Faculty, Mr. Fairford hastily wrote cards in answer 
to the enquiry of the three judges, accounting for 
Alan’s absence in the same manner. These, being 
properly sealed and addressed, he delivered to James, 
with directions to dismiss the parti-coloured gentry, 
who, in the meanwhile, had consumed a gallon of 
twopenny ale, while discussing points of law, and 
addressing each other by their masters’ titles.! 

The exertion which these matters demanded, and 
the interest which so many persons of legal distinc- 
tion appeared to have taken in his son, greatly 
relieved the oppressed spirit of Saunders Fair- 

1 The Scottish Judges are distinguished by the title of lord 
prefixed to their own temporal designation. As the ladies of 
these official dignitaries do not bear any share in their husband’s 
honours, they are distinguished only by their lords’ family name. 
They were not always contented with this species of Salique law, 
which certainly is somewhat inconsistent. But their pretensions 
to title are said to have been long since repelled by James V., the 


Sovereign who founded the College of Justice. ‘I,’ said he, “made 
the carles lords, but who the devil made the carlines ladies 2 ” 


REDGAUNTLET. 241 


ford, who continued to talk mysteriously of the 
very important business which had interfered with 
his son’s attendance during the brief remainder of 
the session. He endeavoured to lay the same 
unction to his own heart; but here the applica- 
tion was less fortunate, for his conscience told him, 
that no end, however important, which could be 
achieved in Darsie Latimer’s affairs, could be bal- 
anced against the reputation which Alan was lke 
to forfeit, by deserting the cause of Poor Peter 
Peebles. 

In the meanwhile, although the haze which sur- 
rounded the cause, or causes, of that unfortunate 
litigant had been for a time dispelled by Alan’s 
eloquence, like a fog by the thunder of artillery, yet 
it seemed once more to settle down upon the mass 
of litigation, thick as the palpable darkness of 
Egypt, at the very sound of Mr. Tough’s voice, 
who on the second day after Alan’s departure, 
was heard in answer to the opening counsel. Deep- 
mouthed, long-breathed, and pertinacious, taking a 
pinch of snuff betwixt every sentence, which other- 
wise seemed interminable — the veteran pleader 
prosed over all the themes which had been treated 
so luminously by Fairford; he quietly and imper- 
ceptibly replaced all the rubbish which the other 
had cleared away ; and succeeded in restoring the 
veil of obscurity and unintelligibility which had 
for many years darkened the case of Peebles against 
Plainstanes; and the matter was once more hung 
up by a remit to an accountant, with instruction 
to report before answer. So different a result from 
that which the public had been led to expect from 
Alan’s speech, gave rise to various speculations. 

The client himself opined that it was entirely 


VOL. I.— 16 


242 REDGAUNTLET. 


owing, first, to his own absence during the first 
day’s pleading, being, as he said, deboshed with 
brandy, usquebaugh, and other strong waters, at 
John’s Coffee-house, per ambages of Peter Drudgeit, 
employed to that effect by and through the device, 
counsel, and covyne of Saunders Fairford, his agent, 
or pretended agent. Secondly, by the flight and 
voluntary desertion of the younger Fairford, the 
advocate; on account of which he served both 
father and son with a petition and complaint 
against them, for malversation in office. So that 
the apparent and most probable issue of this cause 
seemed to menace the melancholy Mr. Saunders 
Fairford with additional subject for plague and 
mortification; which was the more galling, as his 
conscience told him that the case was really given 
away, and that a very brief resumption of the 
former argument, with reference to the necessary 
authorities and points of evidence, would have 
enabled Alan, by the mere breath, as it were, of his 
mouth, to blow away the various cobwebs with 
which Mr. Tough had again invested the proceed- 
ings. But it went, he said, just ike a decreet in 
absence, and was lost for want of a contradictor. 
In the meantime, nearly a week passed over with- 
out Mr. Fairford hearing a word directly from his 
son. He learned, indeed, by a letter from Mr. 
Crosbie, that the young counsellor had safely 
reached Dumfries, but had left that town upon 
some ulterior researches, the purpose of which he 
had not communicated. The old man, thus left to 
suspense, and to mortifying recollections, deprived 
also of the domestic society to which he had been 
habituated, began to suffer in body as well as in 
mind. He had formed the determination of set- 


REDGAUNTLET. 243 


ting out in person for Dumfries-shire, when, after 
having been dogged, peevish, and snappish to his 
clerks and domestics, to an unusual and almost 
intolerable degree, the acrimonious humours settled 
in a hissing-hot fit of the gout, which is a well- 
known tamer of the most froward spirits, and under 
whose discipline we shall, for the present, leave 
him, as the continuation of this history assumes, 
with the next division, a form somewhat different 
from direct narrative and epistolary correspondence, 
though partaking of the character of both. 


CHAPTER III. 


JOURNAL OF DARSIE LATIMER. 


[The following Address is written on the inside of the envelope 
which contained the Journal.] 


Into what hands soever these leaves may fall, 
they will instruct him, during a certain time at 
least, in the history of the life of an unfortunate 
young man, who, in the heart of a free country, 
and without any crime being laid to his charge, has 
been, and is, subjected to a course of unlawful and 
violent restraint. He who opens this letter, is 
therefore conjured to apply to the nearest magis- 
trate, and, following such indications as the papers 
may afford, to exert himself for the relief of one, 
who, while he possesses every claim to assistance 
which oppressed innocence can give, has, at the 
same time, both the inclination and the means of 
being grateful to his deliverers. Or, if the person 
obtaining these letters shall want courage or means 
to effect the writer’s release, he is, in that case, 
conjured, by every duty of a man to his fellow- 
mortals, and of a Christian towards one who _ pro- 
fesses the same holy faith, to take the earliest 
measures for conveying them with speed and safety 
to the hands of Alan Fairford, Esq., Advocate, 
residing in the family of his father, Alexander 
Fairford, Esq., Writer to the Signet, Brown’s Square. 


REDGAUNTLET. 245 


Edinburgh. He may be assured of a liberal reward, 
besides the consciousness of having discharged a 
real duty to humanity. 


My Dearest ALAN, — Feeling as warmly towards 
you in doubt and in distress, as I ever did in the 
brightest days of our intimacy, it is to you whom 
I address a history which may perhaps fall into 
very different hands. A portion of my former 
spirit descends to my pen, when I write your 
name, and indulging the happy thought that you 
may be my deliverer from my present uncomfort- 
able and alarming situation, as you have been my 
guide and counsellor on every former occasion, I 
will subdue the dejection which would otherwise 
overwhelm me. ‘Therefore, as, Heaven knows, I 
have time enough to write, I will endeavour to pour 
my thoughts out, as fully and freely as of old, 
though probably without the same gay and happy 
levity. 

If the papers should reach other hands than 
yours, still I will not regret this exposure of my 
feelings; for, allowing for an ample share of the 
folly incidental to youth and inexperience, I fear 
not that I have much to be ashamed of in my nar- 
rative ; nay, I even hope, that the open simplicity 
and frankness with which I am about to relate 
every singular and distressing circumstance, may 
prepossess even a stranger in my favour; and that, 
amid the multitude of seemingly trivial circum- 
stances which I detailed at length, a clew may be 
found to effect my liberation. | 

Another chance certainly remains — the Journal, 
as I may call it, may never reach the hands, either 
of the dear friend to whom it is addressed, or those 


246 REDGAUNTLET. 


of an indifferent stranger, but may become the 
prey of the persons by whom I am at present treated 
as aprisoner. Let it be so—they will learn from 
it little but what they already know; that, as a 
man, and an Englishman, my soul revolts at the 
usage which I have received ; that I am determined 
to essay every possible means to obtain my freedom ; 
that captivity has not broken my spirit, and that, 
although they may doubtless complete their oppres- 
_ sion by murder, I am still willing to bequeath my 
cause to the justice of my country. Undeterred, 
therefore, by the probability that my papers may 
be torn from me, and subjected to the inspection 
of one in particular, who, causelessly my enemy 
already, may be yet farther incensed at me for 
recording the history of my wrongs, I proceed to 
resume the history of events which have befallen 
me since the conclusion of my last letter to my dear 
Alan Fairford, dated, if I mistake not, on the 5th 
‘day of this still current month of August. 

Upon the night preceding the date of that let- 
ter, I had been present, for the purpose of an idle 
frolic, at a dancing party at the village of Broken- 
burn, about six miles from Dumfries ; many persons 
must have seen me there, should the fact appear 
of importance sufficient to require investigation. 
I danced, played on the violin, and took part in 
_the festivity, till about midnight, when my servant, ~ 
Samuel Owen, brought me my horses, and I rode 
back to a small inn called Shepherd’s Bush, kept 
by Mrs. Gregson, which had been occasionally 
my residence for about a fortnight past. I spent. 
the earlier part of the forenoon in writing a letter 
which I have already mentioned, to you, my dear 
Alan, and which, I think, you must have received 


REDGAUNTLET. 249 


in safety. Why did I not follow your advice, so 
often given me? Why did I linger in the neigh- 
bourhood of a danger, of which a kind voice had 
warned me? These are now unavailing questions 
I was blinded by a fatality, and remained flutter- 
ing like a moth around the candle, until I have 
been scorched to some purpose. 

The greater part of the day had passed, and time 
hung heavy on my hands. I ought, perhaps, to 
blush at recollecting what has been often objected 
to me by the dear friend to whom this letter is 
_ addressed, viz. the facility with which I have, in 
moments of indolence, suffered my motions to be 
directed by any person who chanced to be near me, 
instead of taking the labour of thinking or deciding 
for myself. I had employed for some time, as a 
sort of guide and errand-boy, a lad named Benjamin, 
the son of one widow Coltherd, who lives near the 
Shepherd’s Bush, and I cannot but remember that, 
upon several occasions, I had of late suffered him 
to possess more influence over my motions, than at 
all became the difference of our age and condition. 
At present he exerted himself to persuade me that 
it was the finest possible sport to see the fish taken 
out from the nets placed in the Solway at the 
reflux of the tide, and urged my going thither this 
evening so much, that, looking back on the whole 
circumstances, I cannot but think he had some 
especial motive for his conduct. These particulars 
I have mentioned, that if these papers fall into 
friendly hands, the boy may be sought after and 
submitted to examination. 

His eloquence being unable to persuade me that 
I should take any pleasure in seeing the fruitless 
struggles of the fish when left in the nets and 


248 REDGAUNTLET. 


deserted by the tide, he artfully suggested, that 
Mr. and Miss Geddes, a respectable Quaker family 
well known in the neighbourhood, and with whom 
I had contracted habits of intimacy, would possibly 
be offended if I did not make them an early visit. 
Both, he said, had been particularly enquiring the 
reasons of my leaving their house rather suddenly 
on the previous day. I resolved, therefore, to walk 
up to Mount Sharon and make my apologies; and 
I agreed to permit the boy to attend upon me, and 
wait my return from the house, that I might fish on 
my way homeward to Shepherd’s Bush, for which 
amusement, he assured me, I would find the even- 
ing most favourable. I mention this minute 
circumstance, because I strongly suspect that this 
boy had a presentiment how the evening was to 
terminate with me, and entertained the selfish 
though childish wish of securing to himself an 
angling-rod which he had often admired, as a part 
of my spoils. I may do the boy wrong, but I 
had before remarked in him the peculiar art of 
pursuing the trifling objects of cupidity . proper 
to his age, with the systematic address of much 
riper years. 

When we had commenced our walk, I upbraided 
him with the coolness of the evening, considering 
the season, the easterly wind, and other circum- 
stances, unfavourable for angling. He persisted in 
his own story, and made a few casts, as if to con- 
vince me of my error, but caught no fish; and, 
indeed, as I am now convinced, was much more 
intent on watching my motions, than on taking 
any. When I ridiculed him once more on his fruit- 
less endeavours, he answered with a sneering smile, 
that “the trouts would not rise, because there was 


REDGAUNTLET. 249 


? 


thunder in the air;” an intimation which, in one 
sense, I have found too true. 

I arrived at Mount Sharon; was received by my 
friends there with their wonted kindness; and after 
being a little rallied on my having suddenly left 
them on the preceding evening, I agreed to make 
atonement by staying all night, and dismissed the 
lad who attended with my fishing-rod, to carry 
that information to Shepherd’s Bush. It may be 
doubted whether he went thither, or in a different 
direction. 

Betwixt eight and nine o’clock, when it began to 
become dark, we walked on the terrace to enjoy the 
appearance of the firmament, glittering with ten 
million of stars; to which a slight touch of early 
frost gave tenfold lustre. As we gazed on this 
splendid scene, Miss Geddes, I think, was the first 
to point out to our admiration a shooting or falling 
star, which, she said, drew a long train after it. 
Looking to the part of the heavens which she 
pointed out, I distinctly observed two successive 
sky-rockets arise, and burst in the sky. 

“These meteors,’ said Mr. Geddes, in answer to 
his sister’s observation, “are not formed in heaven, 
nor do they bode any good to the dwellers upon 
earth.” 

As he spoke, I looked to another quarter of the 
sky, and a rocket, as if a signal in answer to those 
which had already appeared, rose high from the 
earth, and burst apparently among the stars. 

Mr. Geddes seemed very thoughtful for some 
minutes, and then said to his sister, “Rachel, 
though it waxes late, I must go down to the fish- 
ing station, and pass the night in the overseer’s 
room there.” 


250 REDGAUNTLET. 


“Nay, then,” replied the lady, “I am but too 
well assured that the sons of Belial are menacing 
these nets and devices. Joshua, art thou a man of 
peace, and wilt thou willingly and wittingly thrust 
thyself, where thou mayst be tempted by the old 
man Adam within thee, to enter into debate and 
strife ?” 

“T am a man of peace, Rachel,” answered Mr. 
Geddes, “even to the utmost extent which our 
friends can demand of humanity; and neither 
have I ever used, nor, with the help of God, will 
I at any future time employ, the arm of flesh to 
repel or to revenge injuries. But if I can, by mild 
reasons and firm conduct, save those rude men from 
committing a crime, and the property belonging to 
myself and others from sustaining damage, surely 
I do but the duty of a man and a Christian.” 

With these words, he ordered his horse instantly ; 
and his sister ceasing to argue with him, folded her 
arms upon her bosom, and looked up to heaven with 
a resigned and yet sorrowful countenance. 

These particulars may appear trivial; but it is 
better,in my present condition, to exert my facul- 
ties in recollecting the past, and in recording it, 
than waste them in vain and anxious anticipations 
of the future. 

It would have been scarcely proper in me to 
remain in the house, from which the master was 
thus suddenly summoned away; and I therefore 
begged permission to attend him to the fishing 
station, assuring his sister that I would be a 
guarantee for his safety. 

The proposal seemed to give much pleasure to 
Miss Geddes. “Let it be so, brother,” she said ; 
“and let the young man have the desire of his 


REDGAUNTLET. 251 


heart, that there may be a faithful witness to stand 
by thee in the hour of need, and to report how it 
shall fare with thee.” 

“No, Rachel,” said the worthy man, “thou art to 
blame in this, that, to quiet thy apprehensions on 
my account, thou shouldst thrust into danger —if 
danger it shall prove to be — this youth, our guest; 
for whom, doubtless, in case of mishap, as many hearts 
will ache as may be afflicted on our account.” 

“ Nay, my good friend,” said I, taking Mr. Geddes’s 

hand, “1 am not so happy as you suppose me. Were 
my span to be concluded this evening, few would so 
much as know that such a being had existed for 
twenty years on the face of the earth; and of these 
few, only one would sincerely regret me. Do not, 
therefore, refuse me the privilege of attending you; 
and of showing, by so trifling an act of kindness, 
that if I have few friends, I am at least desirous to 
serve them.” 
“Thou hast a kind heart, I warrant thee,” said 
Joshua Geddes, returning the pressure of my hand. 
“Rachel, the young man shall go with me. Why 
should he not face danger, in order to do justice 
and preserve peace? There is that within me,” he 
added, looking upwards, and with a passing enthu- 
siasm which I had not before observed, and the 
absence of which perhaps rather belonged to the 
sect than to his own personal character — “I say, 
I have that within which assures me, that though 
the ungodly may rage even like the storm of the 
ocean, they shall not have freedom to prevail 
against us.” 

Having spoken thus, Mr. Geddes appointed a 
pony to be saddled for my use; and having taken 
a basket with some provisions, and a servant to 


252 REDGAUNTLET. 


carry back the horses, for which there was no 
accommodation at the fishing station, we set off 
about nine o’clock at night, and after three quar- 
ters of an hour’s riding, arrived at our place of 
destination. 

The station consists, or then consisted, of huts 
for four or five fishermen, a cooperage and sheds, 
and a better sort of cottage, at which the superin- 
tendent resided. We gave our horses to the servant, 
to be carried back to Mount Sharon; my companion 
expressing himself humanely anxious for their safety 
—and knocked at the door of the house. At first we 
only heard a barking of dogs; but these animals 
became quiet on snuffing beneath the door, and 
acknowledging the presence of friends. A hoarse 
voice then demanded, in rather unfriendly accents, 
who we were, and what we wanted; and it was not 
until Joshua named himself, and called upon his 
superintendent to open, that the latter appeared at 
the door of the hut, attended by three large dogs of 
the Newfoundland breed. He had a flambeau in 
his hand, and two large heavy ship-pistols stuck 
into his belt. He was a stout, elderly man, who had 
been a sailor, as I learned, during the earlier part of 
his life, and was now much confided in by the Fish- 
ing Company, whose concerns he directed under the 
orders of Mr. Geddes. 

“Thou didst not expect me to-night, friend 
Davies?” said my friend to the old man, who was 
arranging seats for us by the fire. 

“No, Master Geddes,” answered he, “I did not 
expect you, nor, to speak the truth, did I wish for 
you either.” 

“These are plain terms, John Davies,’ answered 
Mr. Geddes. 


REDGAUNTLET. 253 


‘Ay, ay, sir, I know your worship loves no 
holyday speeches.” 

“Thou dost guess, I suppose, what brings us 
here so late, John Davies ?” said Mr. Geddes. 

“T do suppose, sir,” answered the superintendent, 
“that it was bedause these d—d smuggling wreck- 
ers on the coast are showing their lights to gather 
their forces, as they did the night before they broke 
down the dam-dike and wears up the country; but 
if that same be the case, I wish once more you had 
staid away, for your worship carries no fighting 
tackle aboard, I think; and there will be work for 
such ere morning, your worship.” 

“Worship is due to Heaven only, John Davies,” 
said Geddes. “I have often desired thee to desist 
from using that phrase to me.” 

“T won't, then,’ said John; “no offence meant: 
But how the devil can a man stand picking his 
words, when he is just going to come to blows ?” 

“JT hope not, John Davies,” said Joshua Geddes. 
“ Call in the rest of the men, that I may give them 
their instructions.” 

“TI may cry till doomsday, Master Geddes, ere a 
soul answers — the cowardly lubbers have all made 
sail — the cooper, and all the rest of them, so soon 
as they heard the enemy were at sea. They have 
all taken to the long-boat, and left the ship among 
the breakers, except little Phil and myself — they 
have, by Me 

“Swear not at all, John Davies—thou art an 
honest man; and I believe, without an oath, that 
thy comrades love their own bones better than my 
goods and chattels. And so thou hast no assistance 
but little Phil against a hundred men or two?” 

“Why, there are the dogs, your honour knows, 





254 REDGAUNTLET. 


Neptune and Thetis—and the puppy may do 
something ; and then though your worship —I beg 
pardon — though your honour be no great fighter, 
this young gentleman may bear a hand.” 

“Ay, and I see you are provided with arms,” 
said Mr. Geddes; “let me see them.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir; here be a pair of buffers will bite 
as well as bark — these will make sure of two rogues 
at least. It would be a shame to strike without 
firing a shot. — Take care, your honour, they are 
double-shotted.” 

“Ay, John Davies, I will take care of them,” 
throwing the pistols into a tub of water beside him ; 
“and I wish I could render the whole generation 
of them useless at the same moment.” 

A deep shade of displeasure passed over John 
Davies’s weatherbeaten countenance. ‘ Belike your 
honour is going to take the command yourself, 
then ?” he said, after a pause. “ Why, I can be of 
little use now; and since your worship, or your 
honour, or whatever you are, means to strike quietly, 
I believe you will do it better without me than 
with me, for I am hke enough to make mischief, 
I admit; but Pll never leave my post without 
orders.” 

“Then you have mine, John Davies, to go to 
Mount Sharon directly, and take the boy Phil with 
you. Where is he ?”’ 

“He is on the outlook for these scums of the 
earth,” answered Davies; “but it is to no purpose 
to know when they come, if we are not to stand to 
our weapons.” 

“We will use none but those of sense and rea- 
son, John.” 

“And you may just as well cast chaff against 


REDGAUNTLET. 255 


the wind, as speak sense and reason to the like of 
them.” 

“Well, well, be it so,’ said Joshua; “and now, 
John Davies, I know thou art what the world calls 
a brave fellow, and I have ever found thee an 
honest one. And now I command you to go to 
Mount Sharon, and let Phil lie on the bank-side 
— see the poor boy hath a sea-cloak, though —and 
watch what happens here, and let him bring you 
the news ; and if any violence shall be offered to the 
property there, I trust to your fidelity to carry my . 
sister to Dumfries, to the house of our friends the 
Corsacks, and inform the civil authorities of what 
mischief hath befallen.” 

The old seaman paused a moment. “It is hard 
lines for me,” he said, “to leave your honour in 
tribulation; and yet, staying here, I am only like 
to make bad worse; and your honour’s sister, Miss 
Rachel, must be looked to, that’s certain ; for if the 
rogues once get their hand to mischief, they will 
come to Mount Sharon after they have wasted and 
destroyed this here snug little roadstead, where I 
thought to ride at anchor for life.” 

“ Right, right, John Davies,” said Joshua Geddes ; 
“and best call the dogs with you.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir,” said the veteran, “for they are 
something of my mind, and would not keep quiet 
if they saw mischief doing; so maybe they might 
come to mischief, poor dumb creatures. So God 
bless your honour —I mean your worship— I can- 
not bring my mouth to say fare you well. — Here, 
Neptune, Thetis! come, dogs, come.” 

So saying, and with a very crestfallen counte- 
nance, John Davies left the hut. 

“ Now there goes one of the best and most faith- 


256 REDGAUNTLET. 


ful creatures that ever was born,” said Mr. Geddes, 
as the superintendent shut the door of the cottage. 
“Nature made him with a heart that would not 
have suffered him to harm a fly; but thou seest, 
friend Latimer, that as men arm their bull-dogs 
with spiked collars, and their game-cocks with steel 
spurs, to aid them in fight, so they corrupt, by 
education, the best and mildest natures, until forti- 
tude and spirit become stubbornness and _ ferocity. 
Believe me, friend Latimer, I would as soon expose 
my faithful household dog to a vain combat with a 
herd of wolves, as yon trusty creature to the vio- 
lence of the enraged multitude. But I need say 
little on this subject to thee, friend Latimer, who, 
I doubt not, art trained to believe that courage is 
displayed and honour attained, not by doing and 
suffering, as becomes a man, that which fate calls 
us to suffer, and justice commands us to do, but 
because thou art ready to retort violence for vio- 
lence, and considerest the lightest insult as a 
sufficient cause for the spilling of blood, nay, the 
taking of hfe.— But, leaving these points of con- 
troversy to a more fit season, let us see what our 
basket of provision contains; for in truth, friend 
Latimer, I am one of those whom neither fear nor 
anxiety deprive of their ordinary appetite.” 

We found the means of good cheer accordingly, 
which Mr. Geddes seemed to enjoy as much as if 
it had been eaten in a situation of perfect safety ; 
nay, his conversation appeared to be rather more 
gay than on ordinary occasions. After eating our 
supper we left the hut together, and walked for a 
few minutes on the banks of the sea. It was high 
water, and the ebb had not yet commenced. The 
moon shone broad and bright upon the placid face 


REDGAUNTLET. 257 


of the Solway Frith, and showed a slight ripple 
upon the stakes, the tops of which were just visible 
above the waves, and on the dark-coloured buoys 
which marked the upper edge of the enclosure of 
nets. At a much greater distance, — for the estuary 
is here very wide, — the line of the English coast 
was seen on the verge of the water, resembling one 
of those fog-banks on which mariners are said to 
gaze, uncertain whether it be land or atmospherical 
delusion. 

“We shall be undisturbed for some hours,” said 
Mr. Geddes; “they will not come down upon us 
till the state of the tide permits them to destroy the 
tide-nets. Is it not strange to think that human 
passions will so soon transform such a tranquil scene 
as this, into one of devastation and confusion ?” 

It was indeed a scene of exquisite stillness; so 
much so, that the restless waves of the Solway 
seemed, if not absolutely to sleep, at least to slum- 
ber ;— on the shore no night-bird was heard — the 
cock had not sung his first matins, and we ourselves 
walked more lightly than by day, as if to suit the 
sound of our own paces to the serene tranquillity 
around us. At length, the plaintive cry of a dog 
broke the silence, and on our return to the cottage, 
we found that the younger of the three animals 
which had gone along with John Davies, unaccus- 
tomed, perhaps, to distant journeys, and the duty 
of following to heel, had strayed from the party, 
and, unable to rejoin them, had wandered back to 
the place of its birth. 

“ Another feeble addition to our feeble garrison,” 
said Mr. Geddes, as he caressed the dog, and admit- 
ted it into the cottage. “Poor thing! as thou art 
incapable of doing any mischief, I hope thou wilt 

VOL. I.—17 


258 REDGAUNTLET. 


sustain none. At least thou mayst do us the good 
service of a sentinel, and permit us to enjoy a quiet 
repose, under the certainty that thou wilt alarm us 
when the enemy is at hand.” 

There were two beds in the superintendent’s 
room, upon which we threw ourselves. Mr. Geddes, 
with his happy equanimity of temper, was asleep 
in the first five minutes. I lay for some time in 
doubtful and anxious thoughts, watching the fire 
and the motions of the restless dog, which, disturbed 
probably at the absence of John Davies, wandered 
from the hearth to the door and back again, then 
came to the bedside, and licked my hands and 
face, and at length, experiencing no repulse to 
its advances, established itself at my feet, and 
went to sleep, an example which I soon afterwards 
followed. 

The rage of narration, my dear Alan —for I will 
never relinquish the hope that what I am writing 
may one day reach your hands — has not forsaken 
me even in my confinement, and the extensive 
though unimportant details into which I have been 
hurried, render it necessary that 1 commence 
another sheet. Fortunately, my pigmy characters 
comprehend a great many words within a small 
space of paper. 


CHAPTER IV. 


DARSIE LATIMER’S JOURNAL, IN CONTINUATION. 


THE morning was dawning, and Mr. Geddes and I 
myself were still sleeping soundly, when the alarm 
was given by my canine bedfellow, who first growled 
deeply at intervals, and at length bore more decided 
testimony to the approach of some enemy. I 
opened the door of the cottage, and perceived, at the 
distance of about two hundred yards, a small but 
close column of men, which I would have taken for 
a dark hedge, but that I could perceive it was advan- 
cing rapidly and in silence. 

The dog flew towards them, but instantly ran 
howling back to me, having probably been chastised 
by a stick or a stone. Uncertain as to the plan of 
tactics or of treaty which Mr. Geddes might think 
proper to adopt, I was about to retire into the 
cottage, when he suddenly joined me at the door, 
and, slipping his arm through mine, said, “ Let us 
go to meet them manfully ; we have done nothing to 
be ashamed of. — Friends,” he said, raising his voice 
as we approached them, “ who and what are you, and 
with what purpose are you here on my property ?” 

A loud cheer was the answer returned, and a 
brace of fiddlers who occupied the front of the 
march immediately struck up the insulting air, the 
words of which begin, 


‘¢ Merrily danced the Quaker’s wife, 
And merrily danced the Quaker.” 


260 REDGAUNTLET. 


Even at that moment of alarm, I think I recog- 
nised the tones of the blind fiddler, known by the 
name of Wandering Willie, from his itinerant 
habits. They continued to advance swiftly and in 
great order, in their front 


‘¢ The fiery fiddlers playing martial airs; ” 


when, coming close up, they surrounded us by a 
single movement, and there was a universal cry, 
“Whoop, Quaker— whoop, Quaker! Here have 
we them both, the wet Quaker and the dry one.” 

“Hang up the wet Quaker to dry, and wet the 
dry one with a ducking,” answered another voice. 

“Where is the sea-otter, John Davies, that 
destroyed more fish than any sealch upon Ailsay 
Craig?” exclaimed a third voice. “I have an old 
crow to pluck with him, and a pock to put the 
feathers in.” 

We stood perfectly passive ; for, to have attempted 
resistance against more than a hundred men, armed 
with guns, fish-spears, iron-crows, spades, and 
bludgeons, would have been an act of utter insanity. 
Mr. Geddes, with his strong sonorous voice, answered 
the question about the superintendent in a manner, 
the manly indifference of which compelled them to 
.attend to him. 

“John Davies,” he said, “ will, I trust, soon be 
at Dumfries” 

“To fetch down redcoats and dragoons against us, 
you canting old villain !” 

A blow was, at the same time, levelled at my 
friend, which I parried by interposing the stick I 
had in my hand. I was instantly struck down, 
and have a faint recollection of hearing some crying, 
“Kill the young spy!” and others, as I thought, 





REDGAUNTLET. 261 


interposing on my behalf. But a second blow on 
the head, received in the scuffie, soon deprived me 
of sense and consciousness, and threw me into a 
state of insensibility, from which I did not recover 
immediately. When I did come to myself, I was 
lying on the bed from which I had just risen before 
the fray, and my poor companion, the Newfound- 
land puppy, its courage entirely cowed by the 
tumult of the riot, had crept as close to me as it could, 
and lay trembling and whining, as if under the most 
dreadful terror. I doubted at first whether I had 
not dreamed of the tumult, until, as I attempted 
to rise, a feeling of pain and dizziness assured me 
that the injury I had sustained was but too real. I 
gathered together my senses — listened — and heard 
at a distance the shouts of the rioters, busy, doubt- 
less, in their work of devastation. I made a second 
effort to rise, or at least to turn myself, for I lay 
with my face to the wall of the cottage, but I found 
that my limbs were secured, and my motions effect- 
ually prevented — not indeed by cords, but by linen 
or cloth bandages swathed around my ankles, and 
securing my arms to my sides. Aware of my 
utterly captive condition, I groaned betwixt bodily 
pain and mental distress. 

A voice by my bedside whispered, in a whining 
tone, “ Whisht a-ye, hinnie— whisht, a-ye ; haud your 
tongue, like a gude bairn— ye have cost us dear 
aneugh already. My hinnie’s clean gane now.” 

Knowing, as I thought, the phraseology of the 
wife of the itinerant musician, I asked her where 
her husband was, and whether he had been hurt. 

“ Broken,’ answered the dame, “all broken to 
pieces; fit for nought but to be made spunks of — 
the best blood that was in Scotland.” 


262 REDGAUNTLET. 


“Broken ?— blood ?— is your husband wounded ; 
has there been bloodshed — broken limbs ?” 

“ Broken limbs ?—I wish,” answered the beldam, 
“that my hinnie had broken the best bane in his 
body, before he had broken his fiddle, that was the 
best blood in Scotland —It was a cremony, for 
aught that I ken.” 

“ Pshaw — only his fiddle ?” said I. 

“T dinna ken what waur your honour could have 
wished him to do, unless he had broken his neck; 
and this is muckle the same to my hinnie Willie 
and me. Chaw, indeed! It is easy to say chaw, 
but wha is to gie us ony thing to chaw?— the 
breadwinner’s gane, and we may e’en sit down and 
starve.” 

“ No, no,” I said, “ I will pay you for twenty such 
fiddles.” 

“Twenty such! is that a’ ye ken about it? the 
country hadna the like ot. But if your honour 
were to pay us, as nae doubt wad be to your 
credit here and hereafter, where are ye to get the 
siller ?” 

“T have enough of money,” said I, attempting to 
reach my hand towards my side-pocket; “unloose 
these bandages, and I will pay you on the spot.” 

This hint appeared to move her, and she was 
approaching the bedside, as I hoped, to liberate me 
from my bonds, when a nearer and more desperate 
shout was heard, as if the rioters were close by the 
hut. 

“TI daurna —I daurna,” said the poor woman, 
“they would murder me and my hinnie Willie 
baith, and they have misguided us aneugh already ; 
—but if there is any thing worldly I could do for 
your honour, leave out loosing ye ?” 


REDGAUNTLET. 263 


What she said recalled me to my bodily suffer- 
ing. Agitation, and the effects of the usage I had 
received, had produced a burning thirst. I asked 
for a drink of water. 

“Heaven Almighty forbid that Epps Ainslie 
should gie ony sick gentleman cauld well-water, 
and him in a fever. Na, na, hinnie, let me alane, 
I'll do better for ye than the like of that.” 

“Give me what you will,” I replied; “let it but 
be liquid and cool.” 

The woman gave me a large horn accordingly, 
filled with spirits and water, which, without minute 
enquiry concerning the nature of its contents, I 
drained at a draught. Either the spirits taken in 
such a manner, acted more suddenly than usual on 
my brain, or else there was some drug mixed with 
the beverage. I remember little after drinking it 
off, only that the appearance of things around me 
became indistinct; that the woman’s form seemed 
to multiply itself, and to flitin various figures around 
me, bearing the same lineaments as she herself did. 
I remember also that the discordant noises and cries 
of those without the cottage seemed to die away in 
a hum like that with which a nurse hushes her 
babe. At length I fell into a deep sound sleep, or 
rather, a state of absolute insensibility. 

I have reason to think this species of trance 
lasted for many hours; indeed, for the whole sub- 
sequent day and part of the night. It was not 
uniformly so profound, for my recollection of it 
is chequered with many dreams, all of a painful 
nature, but too faint and too indistinct to be 
remembered. At length the moment of waking 
came, and my sensations were horrible. 

A deep sound, which, in the confusion of my 


264 REDGAUNTLET. 


senses, I identified with the cries of the rioters, 
was the first thing of which I was sensible; next, I 
became conscious that I was carried violently for- 
ward in some conveyance, with an unequal motion, 
which gave me much pain. My position was hori- 
zontal, and when I attempted to stretch my hands 
in order to find some mode of securing myself 
against this species of suffering, I found I was 
bound as before, and the horrible reality rushed 
on my mind, that I was in the hands of those who 
had lately committed a great outrage on property, 
and were now about to kidnap, if not to murder 
me. I opened my eyes, it was to no purpose — 
all around me was dark, for a day had passed 
over during my captivity. A dispiriting sickness 
oppressed my head — my heart seemed on fire, while 
my feet and hands were chilled and benumbed with 
want of circulation. It was with the utmost 
difficulty that I at length, and gradually, recovered 
in a sufficient degree the power of observing 
external sounds and circumstances; and when I 
did so, they presented nothing consolatory. 

Groping with my hands, as far as the bandages 
would permit, and receiving the assistance of some 
occasional glances of the moonlight, I became aware 
that the carriage in which I was transported was one 
of the light carts of the country, called tumblers, 
and that a little attention had been paid to my 
accommodation, as I was laid upon some sacks 
covered with matting, and filled with straw. With- 
out these, my condition would have been still more 
intolerable, for the vehicle, sinking now on one side, 
and now on the other, sometimes sticking absolutely 
fast, and requiring the utmost exertions of the 
animal which drew it to put it once more in motion, 


REDGAUNTLET. 265 


was subjected to jolts in all directions, which were 
very severe. At other times it rolled silently and 
smoothly over what seemed to be wet sand; and, 
as I heard the distant roar of the tide, I had little 
doubt that we were engaged in passing the for- 
midable estuary which divides the two kingdoms. 

There seemed to be at least five or six people 
about the cart, some on foot, others on horseback ; 
the former lent assistance whenever it was in danger 
of upsetting, or sticking fast in the quicksand; the 
others rode before and acted as guides, often chang- 
ing the direction of the vehicle as the precarious 
state of the passage required. 

I addressed myself to the men around the cart, 
and endeavoured to move their compassion. I had 
harmed, I said, no one, and for no action in my life 
had deserved such cruel treatment. I had no con- 
cern whatever in the fishing station which had 
incurred their displeasure, and my acquaintance 
with Mr. Geddes was of a very late date. Lastly, 
and as my strongest argument, I endeavoured to 
excite their fears, by informing them that my rank in 
life would not permit me to be either murdered or 
secreted with impunity ; and to interest their ava- 
rice, by the promises I made them of reward, if they 
would effect my deliverance. I only received a 
scornful laugh in reply to my threats; my promises 
might have done more, for the fellows were whis- 
pering together as if in hesitation, and I began to 
reiterate and increase my offers, when the voice of 
one of the horsemen, who had suddenly come up, 
enjoined silence to the men on foot, and, approach- 
ing the side of the cart, said to me, with a strong 
and determined voice, “ Young man, there is no 
personal harm designed to you. If you remain 


266 REDGAUNTLET. 


silent and quiet, you may reckon on good treat- 
ment; but if you endeavour to tamper with these 
men in the execution of their duty, I will take such 
measures for silencing you, as you shall remember 
the longest day you have to live.” 

I thought I knew the voice which uttered these 
threats; but, in such a situation, my perceptions 
could not be supposed to be perfectly accurate. I 
was contented to reply, “Whoever you are that 
speak to me, I entreat the benefit of the meanest 
prisoner, who is not to be subjected legally to 
ereater hardship than is necessary for the restraint 
of his person. I entreat that these bonds, which 
hurt me so cruelly, may be slackened at least, if not 
removed altogether.” 

“TJ will slacken the belts,” said the former speaker ; 
“nay, I will altogether remove them, and allow you 
to pursue your journey in a more convenient man- 
ner, provided you will give me your word of honour 
that you will not attempt an escape.” 

“ Never!” I answered, with an energy of which 
despair alone could have rendered me capable — 
“J will never submit to loss of freedom a moment 
longer than I am subjected to it by force.” 

“Enough,” he replied ; “the sentiment is natural ; 
but do not on your side complain that I, who am 
carrying on an important undertaking, use the only 
means in my power for ensuring its success.” 

Tentreated to know what it was designed to do 
with me; but my conductor, in a voice of menacing 
authority, desired me to be silent on my peril; and 
my strength and spirits were too much exhausted 
to permit my continuing a dialogue so singular, 
even if I could have promised myself any good 
result by doing so. 


REDGAUNTLET. 267 


It is proper here to add, that, from my recollec- 
tions at the time, and from what has since taken 
place, I have the strongest possible belief that the 
man with whom I held this expostulation, was the 
singular person residing at Brokenburn, in Dum- 
fries-shire, and called by the fishers of that hamlet, 
the Laird of the Solway Lochs. The cause for his 
inveterate persecution I cannot pretend even to 
guess at. 

In the meantime, the cart was dragged heavily 
and wearily on, until the nearer roar of the advan- 
cing tide excited the apprehension of another danger. 
I could not mistake the sound, which I had heard 
upon another occasion, when it was only the speed 
of a fleet horse which saved me from perishing in 
the quicksands. Thou, my dear Alan, canst not 
but remember the former circumstances ; and now, 
wonderful contrast! the very man, to the best of 
my belief, who then saved me from peril, was the 
leader of the lawless band who had deprived me of 
my liberty. Iconjectured that the danger grew 
imminent; for I heard some words and circum- 
stances which made me aware that a rider hastily 
fastened his own horse to the shafts of the cart, in 
order to assist the exhausted animal which drew it, 
and the vehicle was now pulled forward at a faster 
pace, which the horses were urged to maintain by 
blows and curses. The men, however, were inhabi- 
tants of the neighbourhood; and I had strong 
personal reason to believe, that one of them, at 
least, was intimately acquainted with all the depths 
and shallows of the perilous paths in which we were 
engaged. But they were in imminent danger them- 
selves; and if so, as from the whispering and exer- 
tions to push on with the cart, was much to be 


268 REDGAUNTLET. 


apprehended, there was little doubt that I should 
be left behind as a useless encumbrance, and that 
while I was ina condition which rendered every 
chance of escape impracticable. These were awful 
apprehensions ; but it pleased Providence to increase 
them to a point which my brain was scarcely able 
to endure. 

As we approached very near to a black line, 
which, dimly visible as it was, I could make out to 
be the shore, we heard two or three sounds, which 
appeared to be the report of fire-arms. Immediately 
all was bustle among our party to get forward. 
Presently a fellow galloped up to us, crying out, 
“Ware hawk! ware hawk! the land-sharks are out 
from Burgh, and Allonby Tom will lose his cargo 
if you do not bear a hand.” 

Most of my company seemed to make hastily for 
the shore on receiving this intelligence. A driver 
was left with the cart; but at length, when, after 
repeated and hair-breadth escapes, it actually stuck 
fast in a slough or quicksand, the fellow with an 
oath cut the harness, and, as J presume, departed 
with the horses, whose feet I heard splashing over 
the wet sand, and through the shallows, as he 
galloped off. 

The dropping sound of fire-arms was still contin- 
ued, but lost almost entirely in the thunder of the 
advancing surge. By a desperate effort I raised 
myself in the cart, and attained a sitting posture, 
which served only to show me the extent of my 
danger. There lay my native land—my own 
England — the land where I was born, and to which 
my wishes, smce my earliest age, had turned with 
all the prejudices of national feeling — there it lay, 
within a furlong of the place where I yet was; that 


REDGAUNTLET. 269 


furlong which an infant would have raced over in 
a minute, was yet a barrier effectual to divide me 
for ever from England and from life. I soon not 
only heard the roar of this dreadful torrent, but 
saw, by the fitful moonlight, the foamy crests of 
the devouring waves, as they advanced with the 
speed and fury of a pack of hungry wolves. 

The consciousness that the slightest ray of hope, 
or power of struggling, was not left me, quite over- 
came the constancy which I had hitherto maintained. 
My eyes began to swim — my head grew giddy and 
mad with fear—I chattered and howled to the 
howling and roaring sea. One or two great waves 
already reached the cart, when the conductor of the 
party whom I have mentioned so often, was, as if 
by magic, at my side. He sprang from his horse 
into the vehicle, cut the ligatures which restrained 
me, and bade me get up and mount in the fiend’s 
name. 

Seeing I was incapable of obeying, he seized me, 
as if I had been a child of six months old, threw 
me across the horse, sprung on behind, supporting 
with one hand, while he directed the animal with 
the other. In my helpless and painful posture, I 
was unconscious of the degree of danger which we 
incurred; but I believe at one time the horse was 
swimming, or nearly so; and that it was with dif- 
ficulty that my stern and powerful assistant kept 
my head above water. I remember particularly 
the shock which I felt when the animal, endeavour- 
ing to gain the bank, reared, and very nearly fell 
back on his burden. The time during which I con- 
tinued in this dreadful condition did not probably 
exceed two or three minutes, yet so strongly were 
they marked with horror and agony, that they seem 


270 REDGAUNTLET. 


to my recollection a much more considerable space 
of time. 

When I had been thus snatched from destruc- 
tion, I had only power to say to my protector, — or 
oppressor, — for he merited either name at my hand, 
“You do not, then, design to murder me?” 

He laughed as he replied, but it was a sort of 
laughter which I scarce desire to hear again, — 
“Else you think I had let the waves do their work ? 
But remember, the shepherd saves his sheep from 
the torrent —is it to preserve its life ?— Be silent, 
however, with questions or entreaties. What I 
mean to do, thou canst no more discover or prevent, 
than a man, with his bare palm, can scoop dry the 
Solway.” 

I was too much exhausted to continue the argu- 
ment; and, still numbed and torpid in all my limbs, 
permitted myself without reluctance to be placed on 
a horse brought for the purpose. My formidable 
conductor rode on the one side, and another person 
on the other, keeping me upright in the saddle. In 
this manner we travelled forward at a considerable 
rate, and by by-roads, with which my attendant 
seemed as familiar as with the perilous passages of 
the Solway. 

At length, after stumbling through a labyrinth 
of dark and deep lanes, and crossing more than one 
rough and barren heath, we found ourselves on the 
edge of a high-road, where a chaise and four awaited, 
as it appeared, our arrival. To my great relief, we 
now changed our mode of conveyance; for my 
dizziness and headache had returned in so strong 
a degree, that I should otherwise have been totally 
unable to keep my seat on horseback, even with 
the support which I received. 


REDGAUNTLET. 271 


My doubted and dangerous companion signed 
to me toenter the carriage — the man who had rid- 
den on the left side of my horse stepped in after 
me, and, drawing up the blinds of the vehicle, gave 
the signal for instant departure. 

I had obtained a glimpse of the countenance of 
my new companion, as by the aid of a dark lantern 
the drivers opened the carriage door, and I was well- 
nigh persuaded that I recognised in him the 
domestic of the leader of this party, whom I had 
seen at his house in Brokenburn on a former occa- 
sion. To ascertain the truth of my suspicion, I 
asked him whether his name was not Cristal 
Nixon. 

“ What is other folk’s names to you,” he replied, 
eruffly, “who cannot tell your own father and 
mother ?” 

“You know them, perhaps ?” I exclaimed eagerly. 
“You know them! and with that secret is con- 
nected the treatment which I am now receiving ? 
It must be so, for in my life have I never injured 
any one. Tell me the cause of my misfortunes, or 
rather, help me to my liberty, and I will reward 
you richly.” 

“ Ay, ay,” replied my keeper; “but what use to 
give you liberty, who know nothing how to use it 
like a gentleman, but spend your time with Quakers 
and fiddlers, and such-like raff? If I was your — 
hem, hem, hem!” 

Here Cristal stopped short, just on the point, as 
it appeared, when some information was likely to 
escape him. I urged him once more to be my 
friend, and promised him all the stock of money 
which I had about me, and it was not inconsider- 
able, if he would assist in my escape. 


272 REDGAUNTLET. 


He listened, as if to a proposition which had 
some interest, and replied, but in a voice rather 
softer than before, “ Ay, but men do not catch old 
birds with chaff, my master. Where have you got 
the rhino you are so flush of ?” 

“T will give you earnest directly, and that in 
bank-notes,” said I; but, thrusting my hand into 
my side-pocket, I found my pocketbook was gone. 
I would have persuaded myself that it was only the 
numbness of my hands which prevented my finding 
it; but Cristal Nixon, who bears in his countenance 
that cynicism which is especially entertained with 
human misery, no longer suppressed his laughter. 

“Oh, ho! my young master,” he said; “we 
have taken good enough care you have not kept the 
means of bribing poor folk’s fidelity. What, man, 
they have souls as well as other people, and to make 
them break trust is a deadly sin. And as for me, 
young gentleman, if you would fill Saint Mary’s 
Kirk with gold, Cristal Nixon would mind it no 
more than so many chucky-stones.” 

I would have persisted, were it but in hopes of 
his letting drop that which it concerned me to know, 
but he cut off further communication, by desiring 
me to lean back in the corner and go to sleep. 

“Thou art cockbrained enough already,” he added, 
“and we shall have thy young pate addled entirely, 
if you do not take some natural rest.” 

I did indeed require repose, if not slumber; the 
draught which I had taken continued to operate, 
and satisfied in my own mind that no attempt on 
my life was designed, the fear of instant death no 
longer combated the torpor which crept over me 
—I slept, and slept soundly, but still without 
refreshment. 


REDGAUNTLET. 273 


When I awoke, I found myself extremely indis- 
posed ; images of the past, and anticipations of the 
future, floated confusedly through my brain. I per- 
ceived, however, that my situation was changed, 
greatly for the better. I was in a good bed, with 
the curtains drawn round it; I heard the lowered 
voice and cautious step of attendants, who seemed 
to respect my repose; it appeared as if I was in the 
hands either of friends, or of such as meant me no 
personal harm. 

I can give but an indistinct account of two or 
three broken and feverish days which succeeded, but 
if they were chequered with dreams and visions of 
terror, other and more agreeable objects were also 
sometimes presented. Alan Fairford will under- 
stand me when I say, I am convinced I saw G. M. 
during this interval of oblivion. I had medical 
attendance, and was bled more than once. I also 
remember a painful operation performed on my head, 
where I had received a severe blow on the night 
of the riot. My hair was cut short, and the bone 
of the skull examined, to discover if the cxnium 
had received any injury. 

On seeing the physician, it would have been 
natural to have appealed to him on the subject of 
my confinement, and I remember more than once 
attempting to do so. But the fever lay like a spell 
upon my tongue, and when I would have implored 
the doctor’s assistance, I rambled from the subject, 
and spoke I know not what — nonsense. Some 
power, which I was unable to resist, seemed to 
impel me into a different course of conversation 
from what I intended, and though conscious, in 
some degree, of the failure, I could not mend it; 
and resolved, therefore, to be patient, until my 

VOLeI.— 15 


274 REDGAUNTLET. 


capacity of steady thought and expression was 
restored to me with my ordinary health, which 
had sustained a severe shock from the vicissitudes 
to which I had been exposed. ! 


1 Note V. — Riotous attack upon the dam-dike of Sir James 
Graham of Netherby. 


CHAPTER V. 
DARSIE LATIMER'S JOURNAL, IN CONTINUATION. 


Two or three days, perhaps more, perhaps less, had 
been spent in bed, where I was carefully attended, 
and treated, I believe, with as much judgment as 
the case required, and I was at length allowed to 
quit my bed, though not the chamber. I was now 
more able to make some observation on the place 
of my confinement. 

The room, in appearance and furniture, resembled 
the best apartment in a farmer’s house; and the 
window, two stories high, looked into a backyard, 
or court, filled with poultry. There were the usual 
domestic offices about this yard. I could distinguish 
the brewhouse and the barn, and I heard, from a 
more remote building, the lowing of the cattle and 
other rural sounds, announcing a large and well- 
stocked farm. These were sights and sounds 
qualified to dispel any apprehension of immediate 
violence. Yet the building seemed ancient and 
strong, a part of the roof was battlemented, and the 
walls were of great thickness; lastly, I observed 
with some unpleasant sensations, that the windows 
of my chamber had been lately secured with iron 
stanchions, and that the servants who brought me 
victuals, or visited my apartment to render other 
menial offices, always locked the door when they 
retired. 


276 REDGAUNTLET. 


The comfort and cleanliness of my chamber were 
of true English growth, and such as I had rarely 
seen on the other side of the Tweed; the very old 
wainscot, which composed the floor and the panel- 
ling of the room, was scrubbed with a degree of 
labour which the Scottish housewife rarely bestows 
on her most costly furniture. 

The whole apartments appropriated to my use 
consisted of the bedroom, a small parlour adjacent, 
within which wasa still smaller closet, having a nar- 
row window, which seemed anciently to have been 
used as a shot-hole, admitting, indeed, a very mod- 
erate portion of light and air, but without its being 
possible to see any thing from it except the blue 
sky, and that only by mounting on a chair. There 
were appearances of a separate entrance into this 
cabinet, besides that which communicated with the 
parlour, but it had been recently built up, as I dis- 
covered, by removing a piece of tapestry which 
covered the fresh mason-work. I found some of my 
clothes here, with linen and other articles, as well 
as my writing case, containing pen, ink, and paper, 
which enables me, at my leisure, (which, God 
knows, is undisturbed enough,) to make this record 
of my confinement. It may be well believed, how- 
ever, that 1 do not trust to the security of the 
bureau, but carry the written sheets about my per- 
son, so that I can only be deprived of them by 
actual violence. JI also am cautious to write in the 
little cabinet only, so that Ican hear any person 
approach me through the other apartments, and 
have time enough to put aside my journal before 
they come upon me. 

The servants, a stout country fellow, and a very 
pretty mulkmaid-looking lass, by whom I am 


REDGAUNTLET. 277 


attended, seem of the true Joan and Hodge school, 
thinking of little, and desiring nothing, beyond the 
very limited sphere of their own duties or enjoy- 
ments, and having no curiosity whatever about the 
affairs of others. Their behaviour to me, in particu- 
lar, is, at the same time, very kind and very 
provoking. My table is abundantly supplied, and 
they seem anxious to comply with my taste in 
that department. But whenever I make enquiries 
beyond ‘‘what’s for dinner,” the brute of a lad 
baffles me by his anan, and his dunna knaw, and, if 
hard pressed, turns his back on me composedly, and 
leaves the room. The girl, too, pretends to be as 
simple as he; but an arch grin, which she cannot 
always suppress, seems to acknowledge that she 
understands perfectly well the game which she is 
playing, and is determined to keep me in ignorance. 
Both of them, and the wench in particular, treat me 
as they would do a spoiled child, and never directly 
refuse me any thing which I ask, taking care, at the 
same time, not to make their words good by effect- 
ually granting my request. Thus, if I desire to go 
out, Iam promised by Dorcas that I shall walk in 
the park at night and see the cows milked, just as 
she would propose such an amusement to a child. 
But she takes care never to keep her word, if it 
is in her power to do so. 

In the meantime, there has stolen on me insen- 
sibly an indifference to my freedom — a carelessness 
about my situation, for which I am unable to 
account, unless it be the consequence of weakness 
and loss of blood. I have read of men who, 
immured as I am, have surprised the world by the 
address with which they have successfully overcome 
the most formidable obstacles to their escape; and 


278 REDGAUNTLET. 


when I have heard such anecdotes, I have said to 
myself, that no one who is possessed only of a frag- 
ment of freestone, or a rusty nail, to grind down 
rivets and to pick locks, having his full leisure to 
employ in the task, need continue the inhabitant of 
a prison. Here, however, I sit, day after day, with- 
out a single effort to effect my liberation. 

Yet my inactivity is not the result of despon- 
dency, but arises, in part at least, from feelings of 
a very different cast. My story, long a mysterious 
one, seems now upon the verge of some strange 
developement; and I feel a solemn impression that 
I ought to wait the course of events, to struggle 
against which is opposing my feeble efforts to the 
high will of fate. Thou, my Alan, wilt treat as 
timidity this passive acquiescence, which has sunk 
down on me like a benumbing torpor; but if thou 
hast remembered by what visions my couch was 
haunted, and dost but think of the probability that 
Iam in the vicinity, perhaps under the same roof 
with G.M., thou wilt acknowledge that other feel- 
ings than pusillanimity have tended in some degree 
to reconcile me to my fate. 

Still I own it is unmanly to submit with patience 
to this oppressive confinement. My heart rises 
against it, especially when I sit down to record my 
sufferings in this Journal; and I am determined, as 
the first step to my deliverance, to have my letters 
sent to the post-house. 


Iam disappointed. When the girl Dorcas, upon 
whom I had fixed for a messenger, heard me talk 
of sending a letter, she willingly offered her ser- 
vices, and received the crown which I gave her, 
(for my purse had not taken flight with the more 


REDGAUNTLET. 279 


valuable contents of my pocketbook,) with a smile 
which showed her whole set of white teeth. 

But when, with the purpose of gaining some intel- 
ligence respecting my present place of abode, I 
asked, to which post-town she was to send or carry 
the letter, a stolid “Anan” showed me she was 
either ignorant of the nature of a post-office, or that, 
for the present, she chose to seem so. — “Simple- 
ton!” I said, with some sharpness. 

“O Lord, sir!” answered the girl, turning pale, 
which they always do when I show any sparks of 
anger, —“ Don’t put yourself in a passion!— Tl 
put the letter in the post.” 

“What! and not know the name of the post- 
town?” said I, out of patience. “How on earth 
do you propose to manage that?” 

“La you there, good master. What need you 
frighten a poor girl that is no schollard, bating 
what she learned at the Charity-School of Saint 
Bees ?” 

“Ts Saint Bees far from this place, Dorcas ?— 
Do you send your letters there?” said I, in a 
manner as insinuating, and yet careless, as I could 
assume. 

“Saint Bees! — La, who but a madman — beg- 
ging your honour’s pardon —it’s a matter of twenty 
years since fader lived at Saint Bees, which is twenty, 
or forty, or I dunna know not how many miles from 
this part, to the West, on the coast-side; and I 
would not have left Saint Bees, but that fader ”’ 

“Qh, the devil take your father!” replied I. 

To which she answered, “Nay, but thof your 
honour be a little how-come-so, you shouldn’t damn 
folk’s faders; and I won’t stand to it, for one.” 

“Oh, I beg you a thousand pardons —I wish 





280 REDGAUNTLET., 


your father no ill in the world —he was a very 
honest man in his way.” 

“ Was an honest man!” she exclaimed; for the 
Cumbrians are, it would seem, like their neighbours 
the Scotch, ticklish on the point of ancestry, — “ He 
is a very honest man, as ever led nag with halter on 
head to Staneshaw-Bank Fair — Honest !— He is a 
horse-couper.” 

“Right, right,” I replied; “I know it—TI have 
heard of your father—as honest as any horse- 
couper of them all. Why, Dorcas, I mean to buy 
a horse of him.” 

“Ah, your honour,” sighed Dorcas, “he is the 
man to serve your honour well —if ever you should 
get round again —or, thof you were a bit off the 
hooks, he would no more cheat you than” 

“Well, well, we will deal, my girl, you may 
depend on’t. But tell me now, were I to give you 
a letter, what would you do to get it forward ?” 

“Why, put it into Squire’s own bag that hangs in 
hall,’ answered poor Dorcas. “What else could I 
do? He sends it to Brampton, or to Carloisle, 
or where it pleases him, once a-week, and that 
gate.” 

“Ah!” said I; “and I suppose your sweetheart 
John carries it ?” 

“Noa — disn’t now —and Jan is no sweetheart 
of mine, ever since he danced at his mother’s feast 
with Kitty Rutledge, and let me sit still; that a 
did.” 

“Tt was most abominable in Jan, and what I could 
never have thought of him,” I replied. 

“QO, but a did though —a let me sit still on my 
seat, a did.” 

“Well, well, my pretty May, you will get a 





REDGAUNTLET. 281 


handsomer fellow than Jan —Jan’s not the fellow 
for you, I see that.” 

“Noa, noa,” answered the damsel; “but he is 
weel aneugh for a’ that, mon. But I carena a 
button for him; for there is the miller’s son, that 
suitored me last Appleby Fair, when I went wi’ 
oncle, is a gway canny lad as you will see in the 
sunshine.” 

“ Ay, a fine stout fellow — Do you think he would 
carry my letter to Carlisle?” 

“To Carloisle! ’Twould be all his life is worth; 
he maun wait on clap and hopper, as they say. 
Odd, his father would brain him if he went to 
Carloisle, bating to wrestling for the belt, or sic 
loike. But I ha’ more bachelors than him; there 
is the schoolmaster can write almaist as weel as 
tou canst, mon.” 

“Then he is the very man to take charge of a 
letter; he knows the trouble of writing one.” 

“Ay, marry does he, an tou comest to that, mon ; 
only it takes him four hours to write as mony lines. 
Tan, it is a great round hand loike, that one can 
read easily, and not loike your honour’s, that are 
like midge’s taes. But for ganging to Carloisle, 
he’s dead foundered, man, as cripple as Eckie’s 
mear.” 

“In the name of God,” said I, “how is it that you 
propose to get my letter to the post?” 

“Why, just to put it into Squire’s bag loike,” 
reiterated Dorcas; “he sends it by Cristal Nixon 
to post, as you call it, when such is his pleasure.” 

Here I was then, not much edified by having 
obtained a list of Dorcas’s bachelors; and by find- 
ing myself with respect to any information which I 
desired, just exactly at the point where I set out. 


282 REDGAUNTLET. 


It was of consequence to me, however, to accus- 
tom the girl to converse with me familiarly. If she 
did so, she could not always be on her guard, and 
something, I thought, might drop from her which 
I could turn to advantage. 

“Does not the Squire usually look into his 
letter-bag, Dorcas?” said I, with as much indif- 
ference as I could assume. 

“That a does,” said Dorcas; “and a threw out a 
letter of mine to Raff Miller, because a said” 

“Well, well, I won’t trouble him with mine,” 
said I, “Dorcas; but, instead, I will write to him- 
self, Dorcas. But how shall I address him 2” 

“Anan ?” was again Dorcas’s resource. 

“T mean how is he called ?—— What is his name?” 

“Sure your honour should know best,” said 
Dorcas. 

“T know ?— The devil!— You drive me beyond 
patience.” 

“ Noa, noa! donna your honour go beyond patience 
— donna ye now,” implored the wench. “And for 
his neame, they say he has mair nor ane in West- 
moreland and on the Scottish side. But he is but 
seldom wi’ us, excepting in the cocking season; and 
then we just call him Squoire loike; and so do my 
measter and dame.” 

“ And is he here at present?” said I. 

“Not he, not he; he is a buck-hoonting, as they 
tell me, somewhere up the Patterdale way; but he 
comes and gangs like a flap of a whirlwind, or sic 
loike.” 

I broke off the conversation, after forcing on 
Dorcas a little silver to buy ribbons, with which 
she was so much delighted, that she exclaimed, 
“God! Cristal Nixon may say his worst on thee; 





REDGAUNTLET. 283 


but thou art a civil gentleman for all him; and a 
quoit man wi’ woman folk loike.” 

There is no sense in being too quiet with women 
folk, so I added a kiss with my crown piece; and I 
cannot help thinking, that I have secured a parti- 
san in Dorcas. At least she blushed, and pocketed 
her little compliment with one hand, while, with 
the other, she adjusted her cherry-coloured ribbons, 
a little disordered by the struggle it cost me to 
attain the honour of a salute. 

As she unlocked the door to leave the apartment, 
she turned back, and looking on me with a strong 
expression of compassion, added the remarkable 
words, “ La—pbe’st mad or no, thou’se a mettled 
lad, after all.” 

There was something very ominous in the sound 
of these farewell words, which seemed to afford me 
a clew to the pretext under which I was detained 
in confinement. My demeanour was probably insane 
enough, while I was agitated at once by the frenzy 
incident to the fever, and the anxiety arising from 
my extraordinary situation. But is it possible they 
can now establish any cause for confining me, aris- 
ing out of the state of my mind ? 

If this be really the pretext under which I am 
restrained from my liberty, nothing but the sedate 
correctness of my conduct can remove the preju- 
dices which these circumstances may have excited 
in the minds of all who have approached me during 
my illness. I have heard — dreadful thought !— of 
men who, for various reasons, have been trepanned 
into the custody of the keepers of private madhouses, 
and whose brain, after years of misery, became at 
length unsettled, through irresistible sympathy with 
the wretched beings among whom they were classed. 


284 REDGAUNTLET. 


This shall not be my case, if, by strong internal reso- 
lution, it is in human nature to avoid the action of 
exterior and contagious sympathies. 

Meantime I sat down to compose and arrange 
my thoughts, for my purposed appeal to my jailer 
—so I must call him—whom I addressed in the 
following manner; having at length, and after 
making several copies, found language to qualify 
the sense of resentment which burned in the first 
draughts of my letter, and endeavoured to assume a 
tone more conciliating. I mentioned the two occa- 
sions on which he had certainly saved my life, when 
at the utmost peril; and I added, that whatever 
was the purpose of the restraint now practised on 
me, as I was given to understand, by his authority, 
it could not certainly be with any view to ultimately 
injuring me. He might, I said, have mistaken me 
for some other person; and I gave him what account 
I could of my situation and education, to correct such 
anerror. I supposed it next possible, that he might 
think me too weak for travelling, and not capable of 
taking care of myself; and I begged to assure him, 
that I was restored to perfect health, and quite 
able to endure the fatigue of a journey. Lastly, I 
reminded him in firm though measured terms, that 
the restraint which I sustained was an illegal one, 
and highly punishable by the laws which protect 
the liberties of the subject. I ended by demanding, 
that he would take me before a magistrate; or, at 
least, that he would favour me with a personal 
interview, and explain his meaning with regard 
to me. 

Perhaps this letter was expressed in a tone too 
humble for the situation of an injured man, and I 
am inclined to think so when I again recapitulate 


REDGAUNTLET. 285 


its tenor. But what could I do? I was in the 
power of one whose passions seem as violent as his 
means of gratifying them appear unbounded. I 
had reason, too, to believe [this to thee, Alan] that 
all his family did not approve of the violence of 
his conduct towards me; my object, in fine, was 
freedom, and who would not sacrifice much to 
attain it ? 

I had no means of addressing my letter except- 
ing, “For the Squire’s own hand.” He could be 
at no great distance, for in the course of twenty- 
four hours I received an answer. It was addressed 
to Darsie Latimer, and contained these words: — 
“You have demanded an interview with me. You 
have required to be carried before a magistrate. 
Your first wish shall be granted — perhaps the 
second also. Meanwhile, be assured that you are 
a prisoner for the time, by competent authority, 
and that such authority is supported by adequate 
power. Beware, therefore, of struggling with a force 
sufficient to crush you, but abandon yourself to that 
train of events by which we are both swept along, 
and which it is impossible that either of us can 
resist.” 

These mysterious words were without signature 
of any kind, and left me nothing more important 
to do than to prepare myself for the meeting which 
they promised. For that purpose I must now break 
off, and make sure of the manuscript, — so far as I 
can, in my present condition, be sure of any thing, — 
by concealing it within the lining of my coat, so as 
not to be found without strict search. 


CHAPTER VI. 


LATIMERS JOURNAL, IN CONTINUATION. 


THE important interview expected at the conclusion 
of my last took place sooner than I had calculated ; 
for the very day I received the letter, and just 
when my dinner was finished, the Squire, or what- 
ever he is called, entered the room so suddenly, 
that I almost thought I beheld an apparition. The 
figure of this man is peculiarly noble and stately, 
and his voice has that deep fulness of accent which 
implies unresisted authority. I had risen involun- 
tarily as he entered; we gazed on each other for a 
moment in silence, which was at length broken by 
my visitor. 

“You have desired to see me,’ he said. “I am 
here; if you have aught to say, let me hear it; 
my time is too brief to be consumed in childish 
dumb-show.” 

“T would ask of you,” said I, “by what authority 
I am detained in this place of confinement, and for 
what purpose ?” 

“TI have told you already,” said he, “that my 
authority is sufficient, and my power equal to it; 
this is all which it is necessary for you at present 
to know.” 

“Every British subject has a right to know why 
he suffers restraint,” I replied; “nor can he be 
deprived of liberty without a legal warrant — Show 
me that by which you confine me thus.” 


REDGAUNTLET. 287 


“ You shall see more,’ he said; “you shall see 
the magistrate by whom it is granted, and that 
without a moment’s delay.” 

This sudden proposal fluttered and alarmed me; 
I felt, nevertheless, that I had the right cause, and 
resolved to plead it boldly, although I could well 
have desired a little further time for preparation. 
He turned, however, threw open the door of the 
apartment, and commanded me to follow him. I 
felt some inclination, when I crossed the threshold 
of my prison-chamber, to have turned and run for 
it; but I knew not where to find the stairs — had 
reason to think the outer-doors would be secured 
—and, to conclude, so soon as I had quitted the 
room to follow the proud step of my conductor, 
I observed that I was dogged by Cristal Nixon, 
who suddenly appeared within two paces of me, and 
with whose great personal strength, independent of 
the assistance he might have received from his 
master, I saw no chance of contending. I therefore 
followed, unresistingly, and in silence, along one or 
two passages of much greater length than consisted 
with the ideas I had previously entertained of the 
size of the house. At length a door was flung 
open, and we entered a large, old-fashioned parlour, 
having coloured glass in the windows, oaken panel- 
ling on the wall, a huge grate, in which a large 
fagot or two smoked under an arched chimneypiece 
of stone, which bore some armorial device, whilst 
the walls were adorned with the usual number of 
heroes. in armour, with large wigs instead of hel- 
mets, and ladies in sacques, smelling to nosegays. 

Behind a long table, on which were several books, 
sat a smart underbred-looking man, wearing his 
own hair tied in a club, and who, from the quire of 


288 REDGAUNTLET, 


paper laid before him, and the pen which he handled 
at my entrance, seemed prepared to officiate as clerk. 
As I wish to describe these persons as accurately 
as possible, I may add, he wore a dark-coloured 
coat, corduroy breeches, and spatterdashes. At the 
upper end of the same table, in an ample easy-chair, 
covered with black leather, reposed a fat personage, 
about fifty years old, who either was actually a 
country justice, or was well selected to represent 
such a character. His leathern breeches were fault- 
less in make, his jockey boots spotless in the 
varnish, and a handsome and flourishing pair of 
boot-garters, as they are called, united the one part 
of his garments to the other; in fine, a richly-laced 
scarlet waistcoat, and a purple coat, set off the neat 
though corpulent figure of the little man, and threw 
an additional bloom upon his plethoric aspect. I 
suppose he had dined, for it was two hours past 
noon, and he was amusing himself, and aiding diges- 
tion, with a pipe of tobacco. There was an air 
of importance in his manner which corresponded to 
the rural dignity of his exterior, and a habit which 
he had of throwing out a number of interjectional 
sounds, uttered with a strange variety of intonation, 
running from bass up to treble in a very extraor- 
dinary manner, or breaking off his sentences with 
a whiff of his pipe, seemed adopted to give an air 
of thought and mature deliberation to his opinions 
and decisions. Notwithstanding all this, Alan, it 
might be dooted, as our old Professor used to say, 
whether the Justice was any thing more than an 
ass. Certainly, besides a great deference for the 
legal opinion of his clerk, which might be quite 
according to the order of things,he seemed to be 
wonderfully under the command of his brother 


REDGAUNTLET. 289 


Squire, if squire either of them were, and indeed 
much more than was consistent with so much 
assumed consequence of his own. 

“ Ho — ha—ay — so — so — Hum — humph — 
this is the young man, I suppose — Hum — ay — 
seems sickly — Young gentleman, you may sit 
down.” 

I used the permission given, for I had been much 
more reduced by my illness than I was aware of, 
and felt myself really fatigued, even by the few 
paces I had walked, joined to the agitation I 
suffered. 

“And your name, young man, is — humph —ay 
— ha— what is it ?” 

“Darsie Latimer.” 

“Right — ay — humph — very right. Darsie 
Latimer is the very thing — ha — ay — where do 
you come from ?” 

“From Scotland, sir,” I replied. 

“‘ A native of Scotland — a — humph — eh — how 
is it?” 

“Tam an Englishman by birth, sir.” 

“Right — ay —yes, you are so. But pray, Mr. 
Darsie Latimer, have you always been called by 
that name, or have you any other ?— Nick, write 
down his answers, Nick.” 

“ As far as I remember, I never bore any other,” 
was my answer. 

“ How, no?— well I should not have thought so 
— Hey, neighbour, would you?” 

Here he looked towards the other Squire, who 
had thrown himself into a chair; and, with his legs 
stretched out before him, and his arms folded on 
his bosom, seemed carelessly attending to what was 
going forward. He answered the appeal of the 


VOL. I.— 19 


290 REDGAUNTLET. 


Justice by saying, that perhaps the young man’s 
memory did not go back to a very early period. 

«“ Ah —eh— ha — you hear the gentleman — 
Pray, how far may your memory be pleased to run 
back to ?— umph ?” 

“Perhaps, sir, to the age of three years, or a 
httle farther.” 

“And will you presume to say, sir,” said the 
Squire, drawing himself suddenly erect in his seat, 
and exerting the strength of his powerful voice, 
“that you then bore your present name?” 

I was startled at the confidence with which this 
question was put, and in vain rummaged my memory 
for the means of replying. “At least,” I said, “I 
always remember being called Darsie; children, at 
that early age, seldom get more than their Chris- 
tian name.” 

“O,I thought so,” he replied, and again stretched 
himself on his seat, in the same lounging posture as 
before. 

“So you were called Darsie in your infancy,’ 
said the Justice ; “and hum — ay — when did you 
first take the name of Latimer ?” 

“T did not take it, sir; it was given to me.” 

“T ask you,” said the lord of the mansion, but 
with less severity in his voice than formerly, 
“whether you can remember that you were ever 
called Latimer, until you had that name given you 
in Scotland ?” 

“J will be candid; I cannot recollect an instance 
that I was so called when in England, but neither 
can I recollect when the name was first given me; 
and if any thing is to be founded on these queries 
and my answers, I desire my early childhood may 
be taken into consideration.” 


REDGAUNTLET. 291 


“Hum — ay — yes,” said the Justice; “all that 
requires consideration shall be duly considered. 
Young man — eh—I beg to know the name of your 
father and mother ?” 

This was galling a wound that has festered for 
years, and I did not endure the question so patiently 
as those which preceded it; but replied, “I demand, 
in my turn, to know if I am before an English 
Justice of the Peace?” 

“His worship Squire Foxley, of Foxley Hall, has 
been of the quorum these twenty years,” said 
Master Nicholas. 

“Then he ought to know, or you, sir, as his 
clerk, should inform him,” said J, “that I am the 
complainer in this case, and that my complaint 
ought to be heard before I am subjected to cross- 
examination.” 

“ Humph — hoy — what, ay — there is something 
in that, neighbour,” said the poor Justice, who, blown 
about by every wind of doctrine, seemed desirous to 
attain the sanction of his brother Squire. 

“T wonder at you, Foxley,” said his firm-minded 
acquaintance; “how can you render the young man 
justice unless you know who he is?” 

“ Ha — yes — egad that’s true,” said Mr. Justice 
Foxley; “and now — looking into the matter more 
closely — there is, eh, upon the whole — nothing at 
all in what he says —so, sir, you must tell your 
father’s name, and surname.” 

“Tt is out of my power, sir; they are not known 
to me, since you must needs know so much of my 
private affairs.” 

The Justice collected a great affatus in his 
cheeks, which puffed them up like those of a Dutch 
- cherub, while his eyes seemed flying out of his head, 


292 REDGAUNTLET. 


from the effort with which he retained his breath. 
He then blew it forth with, — “ Whew !— Hoom — 
poof —ha!—not know your parents, youngster ? 
— Then I must commit you for a vagrant, I warrant 
you. Omne ignotum pro terribili, as we used to say 
at Appleby school; that is, every one that is not 
known to the Justice, is a rogue and a vagabond. 
Ha !—ay, you may sneer, sir; but I question if you 
would have known the meaning of that Latin unless 
I had told you.” 

I acknowledged myself obliged for a new edition 
of the adage, and an interpretation which I could 
never have reached alone and unassisted. I then 
proceeded to state my case with greater confidence. 
The Justice was an ass, that was clear; but it was 
scarcely possible he could be so utterly ignorant as 
not to know what was necessary in so plain a case 
as mine. I therefore informed him of the riot which 
had been committed on the Scottish side of the Sol- 
way Frith; explained how I came to be placed in 
my present situation; and requested of his worship 
to set me at liberty. I pleaded my cause with as 
much earnestness as I could, casting an eye from 
time to time upon the opposite party, who seemed 
entirely indifferent to all the animation with which 
I accused him. 

As for the Justice, when at length I had ceased, 
as really not knowing what more to say in a case 
so very plain, he replied, “ Ho — ay —ay — yes — 
wonderful! and so this is all the gratitude you 
show to this good gentleman for the great charge 
and trouble he hath had with respect to and con- 
cerning of you?” 

“He saved my life, sir, I acknowledge, on one 
occasion certainly, and most probably on two; but 


REDGAUNTLET. 203 


his having done so gives him no right over my 
person. I am not, however, asking for any punish- 
ment or revenge; on the contrary, | am content to 
part friends with the gentleman, whose motives 
I am unwilling to suppose are bad, though his 
actions have been, towards me, unauthorized and 
violent.” 

This moderation, Alan, thou wilt comprehend, 
was not entirely dictated by my feelings towards 
the individual of whom I complained ; there were 
other reasons, in which regard for him had little 
share. It seemed, however, as if the mildness with 
which I pleaded my cause had more effect upon 
him than any thing I had yet said. He was moved 
to the point of being almost out of countenance ; 
and took snuff repeatedly, as if to gain time to 
stifle some degree of emotion. 

But on Justice Foxley, on whom my eloquence 
was particularly designed to make impression, the 
result was much less favourable. He consulted in 
a whisper with Mr. Nicholas his clerk — pshawed, 
hemmed, and elevated his eyebrows, as if in scorn 
of my supplication. At length, having apparently 
made up his mind, he leaned back in his chair, and 
smoked his pipe with great energy, with a look of 
defiance, designed to make me aware that all my 
reasoning was lost on him. 

At length, when I stopped, more from lack 
of breath than want of argument, he opened his 
oracular jaws, and made the following reply, inter- 
rupted by his usual interjectional ejaculations, and 
by long volumes of smoke: — “Hem — ay — eh — 
poof — And, youngster, do you think Matthew Fox- 
ley, who has been one of the quorum for these 
twenty years, is to be come over with such trash as 


294 REDGAUNTLET. 


would hardly cheat an apple-woman ? — Poof — 
poof —eh! Why, man — eh — dost thou not 
know the charge is not a bailable matter — and 
that — hum — ay — the greatest man — poof — 
the Baron of Graystock himself, must stand com- 
mitted? and yet you pretend to have been 
kidnapped by this gentleman, and robbed of pro- 
perty, and what not; and — eh — poof — you 
would persuade me all you want is to get away 
from him ?—I do believe — eh — that it zs all 
you want. Therefore, as you are a sort of a slip- 
string gentleman, and — ay — hum —a kind of idle 
apprentice, and something cockbrained withal, as 
the honest folk of the house tell me — why, you 
must e’en remain under custody of your guardian, 
till your coming of age, or my Lord Chancellor’s 
warrant, shall give you the management of your 
own affairs, which, if you can gather your brains 
again, you will even then not be — ay — hem — 
poof —in particular haste to assume.” 

The time occupied by his worship’s hums, and 
haws, and puffs of tobacco smoke, together with the 
slow and pompous manner in which he spoke, gave 
me a minute’s space to collect my ideas, dispersed 
as they were by the extraordinary purport of this 
annunciation. 

“TI cannot conceive, sir,” I repled, “by what 
singular tenure this person claims my obedience as 
a guardian; it is a barefaced imposture —I never 
in my life saw him, until I came unhappily to this 
country, about four weeks since.” 

“ Ay, sir, — we — eh — know, and are aware — 
that — poof — you do not like to hear some folk’s 
names; and that — eh — you understand me — 
there are things, and sounds, and matters, conversa- 


REDGAUNTLET. 295 


tion about names, and such like, which put you off 
the hooks — which I have no humour to witness. 
Nevertheless, Mr. Darsie — or — poof — Mr. Darsie 
Latimer — or — poof, poof —eh—ay, Mr. Darsie 
without the Latimer— you have acknowledged as 
much to-day as assures me you will best be disposed 
of under the honourable care of my friend here — 
all your confessions — besides that — poof —eh —I 
know him to be a most responsible person — a — 
hay — ay — most responsible and honourable 
person — Can you deny this ?” 

“T know nothing of him,” I repeated; “not even 
his name; and I have not, as I told you, seen him 
in the course of my whole life, till a few weeks 
since.” 

“Will you swear to that?” said the singular 
man, who seemed to await the result of this debate, 
secure as a rattlesnake is of the prey which has 
once felt its fascination. And while he said these 
words in a deep under-tone, he withdrew his chair a 
little behind that of the Justice, so as to be unseen 
by him or his clerk, who sat upon the same side; 
while he bent on me a frown so portentous, that 
no one who has witnessed the look can forget it 
during the whole of his life. The furrows of the 
brow above the eyes became livid and almost black, 
and were bent into a semicircular, or rather ellip- 
tical form, above the junction of the eyebrows. I 
had heard such a look described in an old tale of 
diablerie, which it was my chance to be entertained 
with not long since; when this deep and gloomy 
contortion of the frontal muscles was not unaptly 
described, as forming the representation of a small 
horseshoe. 

The tale, when told, awaked a dreadful vision 


296 REDGAUNTLET. 


of infancy, which the withering and blighting look 
now fixed on me again forced on my recollection, 
but with much more vivacity. Indeed I was so 
much surprised, and, Il must add, terrified, at the 
vague ideas which were awakened in my mind by 
this fearful sign, that I kept my eyes fixed on the 
face in which it was exhibited, as on a frightful 
vision; until, passing his handkerchief a moment 
across his countenance, this mysterious man relaxed 
at once the look which had for me something so 
appalling. “The young man will no longer deny 
that he has seen me before,” said he to the Justice, 
in a tone of complacency; “and I trust he will now 
be reconciled to my temporary guardianship, which 
may end better for him than he expects.” 

“ Whatever I expect,’ I replied, summoning my 
scattered recollections together, “I see [am neither 
to expect justice nor protection from this gentle- 
man, whose office it is to render both to the lieges. 
For you, sir, how strangely you have wrought your- 
self into the fate of an unhappy young man, or 
what interest you can pretend in me, you yourself 
only can explain. That I have seen you before, is 
certain: for none can forget the look with which 
you seem to have the power of blighting those 
upon whom you cast it.” 

The Justice seemed not very easy under this 
hint. “Ho!— ay,” he said; “it is time to be going, 
neighbour. I have a many miles to ride, and I care 
not to ride darkling in these parts. — You and I, 
Mr. Nicholas, must be jogging.” 

The Justice fumbled with his gloves, in endea- 
vouring to draw them on hastily, and Mr. Nicholas 
bustled to get his great-coat and whip. Their land- 
lord endeavoured to detain them, and spoke of 


REDGAUNTLET. 297 


supper and beds. Both pouring forth many thanks 
for his invitation, seemed as if they would much 
rather not; and Mr. Justice Foxley was making a 
score of apologies, with at least a hundred cautionary 
hems and eh-ehs, when the girl Dorcas burst into 
the room, and announced a gentleman on justice 
business. 

“What gentleman ?— and whom does he want ?” 

“He is cuome post on his ten toes,’ said the 
wench; “and on justice business to his worship 
loike. Tse uphald him a gentleman, for he speaks 
as good Latin as the schulemeaster; but, lack-a- 
day! he has gotten a queer mop of a wig.” 

The gentleman, thus announced and described, 
bounced into the room. But I have already writ- 
ten as much as fills a sheet of my paper, and my 
singular embarrassments press so hard on me, that 
I have matter to fill another from what followed 
the intrusion of — my dear Alan — your crazy client 
— Poor Peter Peebles ! 





AUTHOR'S NOTES. 


Note I., p. 109. 


In explanation of this circumstance, I cannot help adding a 
note not very necessary for the reader, which yet I record with 
pleasure, from recollection of the kindness which it evinces. 
In early youth I resided for a considerable time in the vicinity 
of the beautiful village of Kelso, where my life passed in a 
very solitary manner. I had few acquaintances, scarce any 
companions, and books, which were at the time almost essen- 
tial to my happiness, were difficult to come by. It was then 
that I was particularly indebted to the liberality and friend- 
ship of an old lady of the Society of Friends, eminent for 
her benevolence and charity. Her deceased husband had 
been a medical man of eminence, and left her, with other 
valuable property, a small and well-selected library. This 
the kind old lady permitted me to rummage at pleasure, and 
carry home what volumes I chose, on condition that I should 
take, at the same time, some of the tracts printed for encour- 
aging and extending the doctrines of her own sect. She did 
not even exact any assurance that I would read these per- 
formances, being too justly afraid of involving me in a breach 
of promise, but was merely desirous that I should have the 
chance of instruction within my reach, in case whim, curios- 
ity, or accident, might induce me to have recourse to it. 


Note II., p. 165. 


The personages here mentioned are most of them characters 
of historical fame ; but those less known and remembered may 
be found in the tract entitled, “The Judgment and Justice of 
God Exemplified, or, a Brief Historical Account of some of 
the Wicked Lives and Miserable Deaths of some of the most 


300 AUTHOR’S NOTES. 


remarkable Apostates and Bloody Persecutors, from the Refor- 
mation till after the Revolution.” This constitutes a sort of 
postscript or appendix to John Howie of Lochgoin’s *‘ Account 
of the Lives of the most eminent Scots Worthies.” The 
author has, with considerable ingenuity, reversed his reasoning 
upon the inference to be drawn from the prosperity or mis- 
fortunes which befall individuals in this world, either in the 
course of their lives or in the hour of death. In the account 
of the martyrs’ sufferings, such inflictions are mentioned only 
as trials permitted by Providence, for the better and brighter 
display of their faith, and constancy ot principle. But when 
similar afflictions befell the opposite party, they are imputed 
to the direct vengeance of Heaven upon their impiety. If, 
indeed, the life of any person obnoxious to the historian’s cen- 
sures happened to have passed in unusual prosperity, the mere 
fact of its being finally concluded by death, is assumed as an 
undeniable token of the judgment of Heaven, and, to render 
the conclusion inevitable, his last scene is generally garnished 
with some singular circumstances. Thus the Duke of Lau- 
derdale is said, through old age but immense corpulence, to 
have become so sunk in spirits, ‘‘ that his heart was not the 
bigness of a walnut.” 


Note III., p. 172. 


I have heard in my youth some such wild tale as that placed 
in the mouth of the blind fiddler, of which, I think, the hero 
was Sir Robert Grierson of Lagg, the famous persecutor. But 
the belief was general throughout Scotland, that the excessive 
lamentation over the loss of friends disturbed the repose of the 
dead, and broke even the rest of the grave. There are several 
instances of this in tradition, but one struck me particularly, 
as I heard it from the lips of one who professed receiving it 
from those of a ghost-seer. This was a Highland lady, named 
Mrs. C of B , who probably believed firmly in the truth 
of an apparition, which seems to have originated in the weak- 
ness of her nerves and strength of her imagination. She had 
been lately left a widow by her husband, with the office of 
guardian to their only child. The young man added to the 
difficulties of his charge by an extreme propensity for a mili- 
tary life, which his mother was unwilling to give way to, while 








AUTHOR’S NOTES. 301 


she found it impossible to repressit. About this time the Inde- 
pendent Companies, formed for the preservation of the peace 
of the Highlands, were in the course of being levied; and as a 
gentleman named Cameron, nearly connected with Mrs. C ; 
commanded one of those companies, she was at length per- 
suaded to compromise the matter with her son, by permitting 
him to enter this company in the capacity of a cadet ; thus 
gratifying his love of a military life without the dangers of 
foreign service, to which no one then thought these troops 
were at all liable to be exposed, while even their active service 
at home was not likely to be attended with much danger. 
She readily obtained a promise from her relative that he 
would be particular in his attention to her son, and there- 
fore concluded she had accommodated matters between her 
son’s wishes and his safety in a way sufficiently attentive to 
both. She set off to Edinburgh to get what was awanting for 
his outfit, and shortly afterwards received melancholy news 
from the Highlands. The Independent Company into which 
her son was to enter had a skirmish with a party of catherans 
engaged in some act of spoil, and her friend the Captain being 
wounded, and out of the reach of medical assistance, died in 
consequence. This news was a thunderbolt to the poor mother, 
who was at once deprived of her kinsman’s advice and assist- 
ance, and instructed by his fate of the unexpected danger to 
’ which her son’s new calling exposed him. She remained also 
in great sorrow for her relative, whom she loved with sisterly 
affection. These conflicting causes of anxiety, together with 
her uncertainty whether to continue or change her son’s desti- 
nation, were terminated in the following manner : — 

The house in which Mrs. C resided in the old town of 
Edinburgh, was a flat or story’of a land, accessible, as was 
then universal, by a common stair. The family who occupied 
the story beneath were her acquaintances, and she was in the 
habit of drinking tea with them every evening. It was 
accordingly about six o’clock, when, recovering herself from a 
deep fit of anxious reflection, she was about to leave the par- 
lour in which she sat in order to attend this engagement. The 
door through which she was to pass opened, as was very com- 
mon in Edinburgh, into a dark passage. In this passage, and 
within a yard of her when she opened the door, stood the 
apparition of her kinsman, the deceased officer, in his full 
tartans, and wearing his bonnet. Terrified at what she saw, 








302 AUTHOR’S NOTES. 


or thought she saw, she closed the door hastily, and, sinking 
on her knees by a chair, prayed to be delivered from the hor- 
rors of the vision. She remained in that posture till her 
friends below tapped on the floor to intimate that tea was 
ready. Recalled to herself by the signal, she arose, and, on 
opening the apartment door, again was confronted by the vis- 
ionary Highlander, whose bloody brow bore token, on this 
second appearance, to the death he had died. Unable to endure 
this repetition of her terrors, Mrs. C sunk on the floor in a 
swoon. Her friends below, startled with the noise, came up 
stairs, and, alarmed at the situation in which they found her, 
insisted on her going to bed and taking some medicine, in order 
to compose what they took for a nervous attack. They had no 
sooner left her in quiet, than the apparition of the soldier was 
once more visible in the apartment. This time she took courage 
and said, ‘‘ In the name of God, Donald, why do you haunt 
one who respected and loved you when living ?’’ To which he 
answered readily, in Gaelic, “ Cousin, why did you not speak 
sooner? My rest is disturbed by your unnecessary lamenta- 
tion — your tears scald me in my shroud. I come to tell you 
that my untimely death ought to make no difference in your 
views for your son; God will raise patrons to supply my place, 
and he will live to the fulness of years, and die honoured and 
at peace.” The lady of course followed her kinsman’s advice ; 
and as she was accounted a person of strict veracity, we may 
conclude the first apparition an illusion of the fancy, the final 
one a lively dream suggested by the other two. 





Note IV., p. 199. — PETER PEEBLES. 


This unfortunate litigant (for a person named Peter Peebles 
actually flourished) frequented the courts of justice in Scot- 
land about the year 1792, and the sketch of his appearance is 
given from recollection. The author is of opinion that he him- 
self had at one time the honour to be counsel for Peter Peebles, 
whose voluminous course of litigation served as a sort of assay- 
pieces to most young men who were called to the bar. The 
scene of the consultation is entirely imaginary. 


AUTHOR’S NOTES. 303 


Note V., p. 274. — Riorous ATTACK UPON THE DaM-DIKE 
oF Sir JAMES GRAHAM OF NETHERBY. 


It may be here mentioned, that a violent and popular attack 
upon what the country people of this district considered as an 
invasion of their fishing right, is by no means an improbable 
fiction. Shortly after the close of the American war, Sir James 
Graham of Netherby constructed a dam-dike, or cauld, across 
the Esk, at a place where it flowed through his estate, though 
it has its origin, and the principal part of its course, in Scotland. 
The new barrier at Netherby was considered as an encroach- 
ment calculated to prevent the salmon from ascending into 
Scotland ; and the right of erecting it being an international 
question of law betwixt the sister kingdoms, there was no court 
in either competent to its decision. In this dilemma, the Scots 
people assembled in numbers by signal of rocket lights, and, 
rudely armed with fowling-pieces, fishspears, and such rustic 
weapons, marched to the banks of the river for the purpose of 
pulling down the dam-dike objected to. Sir James Graham 
armed many of his own people to protect his property, and had 
some military from Carlisle for the same purpose. A renewal 
of the Border wars had nearly taken place in the eighteenth 
century, when prudence and moderation on both sides saved 
‘much tumult, and perhaps some bloodshed. The English 
proprietor consented that a breach should be made in his dam- 
dike sufficient for the passage of the fish, and thus removed the 
Scottish grievance. I believe the river has since that time 
taken the matter into its own disposal, and entirely swept 
away the dam-dike in question. | 


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EDITOR’S NOTES. 


(a) p. xxiv. “Such censures were by no means frequent 
among those of his followers, who... had the best right to 
complain.” The chief censors of the Prince are the Chevalier 
Johnstone, in his Memoirs; Lord Elcho, in his unpublished 
manuscript ; and Dr. King, in his “ Anecdotes.” The Doctor 
probably wished to justify his change of sides; the Chevalier 
Johnstone was absurdly vain, and far from unimpeachably 
truthful ; Lord Elcho had lent Charles fifteen hundred guineas, 
which, as far as can be ascertained, were never repaid. It must 
be confessed, however, that after landing in France, Charles 
seems to have neglected the men and women who saved his 
life in Scotland, at the risk of their own. We never hear that 
he wrote to Flora Macdonald, or provided in any way for poor 
Ned Burke. As long as he was among them, he was grateful, 
considerate, chivalrously courteous, generous out of his scanty 
means, and so honest that he left money to pay for some dried 
fish which he and his companions found on a desert island 
occasionally occupied by fishers. When he had once crossed 
over to Morbihan, Charles became a changed man. We hear 
of his sumptuous costume, of a splendid service of plate which 
he bought ; we do not hear that he remembered his Highland 
friends. On the other hand, he himself was soon in great 
straits. He refused to accept a pension from France. On May 
22, 1747, Mr. John Graeme writes to King James that the 
Prince is hard put to it by the demands of the exiles: “at the 
same time, I don’t see how the Prince himself with his family 
will be able to subsist, seeing no visible fund he has for that 
purpose.” “You would not be in want had you accepted of 
the French pension,” the King writes to Charles on June 13, 
1747. It appears, from various passages in this letter, that, 
even had the Duke of York not accepted the Cardinal’s hat, he 
was unlikely tomarry. The King would have urged priesthood 
on him, even had he been without vocation, “‘as I am sensible 


VOL. 1.— 20 


306 EDITOR’S NOTES. 


it is impossible for him to enjoy tranquillity and happiness in 
any other state.” However this may be, the hat was a stone of 
stumbling to the Scotch and English Jacobites. 

(6) p. xxvi. “A young Scotchman of rank.” Murray of 
Elibank is the person intended. It is understood that Charles 
refused to listen to the proposal of assassinating any member of 
the ruling family in England. 

(c) p. xxvi. “Doctor Archibald Cameron.” This last victim 
of the Rising was captured in Scotland, where he seems to have 
had an eye on the treasure concealed at the head of Loch 
Arkaig, just after Culloden. The Jacobites, or some of them, 
accused him of appropriating a large sum. What remained 
was later carried over to Charles by Cluny, as we read in “ The 
Jacobite Lairds of Gask.” 

(d) p. xxxi. “Confinement in the Bastile.” Charles was 
really confined in Vincennes, after being arrested at the opera. 

(e) p. xxxvi. ‘ At least as late as seventeen hundred and 
fifty-three.” Charles, as manuscripts in Lord Braye’s posses- 
sion show, never ceased to cherish hopes of restoration, and 
to intrigue in a melancholy way, till his death on Jan. 30, 
1788. 

(f) p.1. “Cur me exanimas querelis tuis?” Read ‘ Cur 
me querelis ecanvmas tuis?’’ Lockhart describes James Ballan- 
tyne as neglecting his business for the correction of Scott’s 
proof-sheets. It is much to be regretted that Lockhart himself 
did not play the part of corrector. Ballantyne had an eye for 
apparent contradictions in the narrative, but neither for slips in 
quotation nor for Scotticisms in style. 

(9) p. 3. “The Gaits’ class.” The youngest class at the 
High School, and at the Edinburgh Academy, of which Scott 
was one of the founders. The mysterious word is pronounced 
“ Gytes.” 

(h) p. 11. “The learned Ruddiman.” The editor of the 
magazine in which Fergusson’s poems first appeared. He 
wrote “ Grammatice Latine Institutiones ” (1773), and Rud- 
diman’s “ Rudiments” were long the torment of Scottish 
schoolboys. , 

(2) p- 15. “Luckie Simpson’s Cow.” This is an old 
anecdote, and is told at immense length in Franck’s ‘‘ Northern 
Memoirs” (1658), edited by Scott in 1821. 

(k) p. 28. “Parma non bene ‘selecta.” Read “ Relicta non 
bene parmula.” Horace’s account of his own flight at Philippi. 


EDITOR’S NOTES. 307 


The western regiment at Falkirk were volunteers on the Hano- 
verian side, chiefly from Glasgow. “There were the Glasgow 
shopkeepers with their big bellies, at the bottom of the muir. 
And, by my faith, we did pack into them,” said old Fasnacloich, 
who died in 1819. In Glasgow the Prince lived in Shawfield 
House, at the bottom of the present Glassford Street. It was 
at Shawfield House, probably, not at Bannockburn, that Charles 
met Miss Walkinshaw, the youngest of ten sisters. See ‘The 
Anecdotage of Glasgow,” p. 111 (1892). 

(1) p. 32. “ Dumfries.”?. The rooms occupied by the Prince 
at Dumfries are still shown at an hotel in the town. The 
Chevalier Johnstone says that Dumfries was “full of fanatical 
Calvinists,’’ and on the march into England a party of Seceders 
seized some ammunition-wagons. ‘‘ We punished the inhabi- 
tants by levying a considerable fine on them.” ‘The gentry, 
like Maxwell of Kirkconnel, author of a History of the Rising, 
were Jacobites. Kenmure, however, had suffered much in 
1715, and the family chiefly showed their loyalty by sending 
the Prince a cask of porter when he was in Rome. 

(m) p. 32. “A gorgeous jury of flies.” This phrase is as 
old as Dame Juliana Berners, and is derided by old Barker in 
his “ Art of Angling” (1651). Cotton’s instructions in fly-fish- 
ing, in spite of Darsie Latimer, are very judicious. 

(n) p. 67. “Over the water.’ Some Jacobite cups were 
‘made with a small quantity of water under the glass, so that the 
King might be properly toasted. 

(0) p. 83. “Salmon raun.” This destructive bait is now 
illegal and very popular. 

(p) p. 146. “Blind Jack of Knaresborough.” This man 
was John Metcalf, born in 1717. His very curious and inter- 
esting biography is in the Abbotsford Library (5th edition). 
The second, penes me, is published at Leeds (1801). Jack lost 
his sight from smallpox, at the age of six, but became distin- 
guished as a rider, a jockey, a musician, and acard-player. He 
was fiddler at the Harrogate balls, in 1745, when Mr. Thornton 
of Thornfield, by aid of Jack and his persuasive fiddle, raised 
a company of militia in the Hanoverian interest. Originally 
they joined Wade, but later went, with Hawley, to Falkirk, 
where many of them were captured. After lurking for two 
days in a closet adjoining the room occupied by Murray of 
Broughton in Falkirk, Captain Thornton escaped to Edinburgh. 
Blind Jack had already been there, but bravely returned to 


308 EDITOR’S NOTES. 


Falkirk, professing a desire to fiddle for Prince Charles, but 
really in search of his officer. He went north with Cumber- 
land’s army to Culloden, and returned in safety and triumph. 
In later years he was a layer out of roads, and a man of some 
substance. He was still alive when his Life, with a portrait, 
was published, from his own narrative, in 1801. Jack seems 
a character made to Scott’s hand, and may, perhaps, have lent 
some traits to the portrait of Wandering Willie. 

(q) p. 151. “Wy Glencairn.” This nobleman headed a 
Highland movement during the Cromwellian occupation of 
Scotland after Dunbar. 

(rv) p. 154. ‘ Major Weir.” The confessions of this unhappy 
man include the most abominable crimes, and savour of mad- 
ness, He had been a noted saint, and wasengaged as gaoler of 
Montrose, who hated tobacco, and whom Major Weir annoyed 
by his pipe. According to the old account of Major Weir, 
he could send his double or astral body to persecute ladies 
whom he admired. (“Satan’s Invisible World Discovered,” 
1685 ; “ Ravaillac Redivivus,” 1678.) The Major, as Erskine 
told Sir Walter, was “a most ungentlemanlike character.” 
The Major’s sister, who suffered with him as a partner in 
his iniquities of all kinds, was the original owner of the horse- 
shoe frown. 

(s) p. 165. “The dissolute Rothes.” He must have been 
rather a free-liver, for Archbishop Sharpe wrote to him a severe 
and dignified letter on his private conduct. It was “the fierce 
Middleton ” who when drunk, with a drunken council, issued, 
to Sharpe’s regret, the edict expelling Covenanting ministers 
from their parishes, the chief cause of the Scotch troubles in 
the reign of Charles II. 

(t) p. 165. “Earlshall.”’ Bruce of Earlshall, on a spit of 
coast opposite St. Andrews. He led the party against whom Mr. 
Cameron fought at Airdsmoss, where Hackston of Rathillet was 
taken. The editor of Howie of Lochgoin’s “ Scots Worthies” 
(1831) omits the appendix of “ The Judgements of God upon 
Persecutors,” quoted by Scott, which “ proceeds upon a prin- 
ciple utterly erroneous.” Perhaps it does; but he publishes 
“‘ Judgements” enough in his Notes. 

(u) p. 165. “Bonshaw.” Irvine of Bonshaw caught Mr. 
Cargill, the Excommunicator of the King, at Covington Mill, 
near St. John’s Kirk, and “ tied his feet below the horse’s belly 
with his own hands very hard.” At his trial Cargill accused 


EDITOR’S NOTES. 309 


the advocate, “Bloody Mackenzie,” of having ‘‘ cast off the 
fear of God.” 

(v) p.166. “The Lang Lad of the Nethertown, that helped 
to take Argyle.” Argyle was taken by two militia men, at the 
water of Inchinan, on June 17, 1685. He was in arms for 
Monmouth, and was “ financed ”’ by “a rich widow of Amster- 
dam, who furnished him with £10,000 sterling.” (“ Scottish 
Worthies,” i. 467.) Howie throws no light on the Long Lad 
of the Nethertown. 

(w) p. 166. “The Deil’s Rattle-bag.” ‘ About this time, 
preaching at Carrick, in the parish of Girvin, in the day-time 
in the fields, David Mason, then a professor, came in haste, 
trampling upon people to be near him; he [2.¢. Peden] said, 
There comes the Devil’s Rattle-bag, we do not want him here, 
After this, the said David became officer in that bounds, and an 
informer, running throw, rattling his bag, and summoning the 
people to their unhappy courts for their non-conformity ; for 
that, he and his got the name of the Devil’s Rattle-bags, and to 
this day do. Since the Revolution, he complain’d to his min- 
ister, that he and his got that name ; the minister said, Ye well 
deserved it, and he was an honest man that gave you it; you 
and yours must enjoy it, there’s no help for it.” — Patrick 
Walker’s Life of Peden, in “ Biographia Presbyteriana,” 1837, 
vol. i. p. 78. [For this note the Editor is indebted to Mr. D. 
Hay Fleming. | 

(a) p. 179. ‘Miss Nickie Murray.” An account of the 
female Beau Nash of the North will be found in Sir Daniel 
Wilson’s work on old Edinburgh. 

ANDREW LaN«. 

January 1894, 


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GLOSSARY. 


A’, all. 

Aboon, abune, above. 

Ae, one. 

Afore, before. 

Ain, own. 

Airt, to direct. 

** Ance wud, and aye waur,’’ 
increasing in insanity. 

Aneath, beneath. ' 

Anes, once. 

** Anes errand,”’ 
purpose. 

Arles, earnest-money. 

Attour, above or over. 

Aught, to own, to possess. 

Auld, old. 

Awn, own. 


entirely on 


Ba’, a ball. 

Bailie, a Scotch magistrate or 
alderman. 

Bairn, a child. 

Baith, both. 

Ballant, a ballad. 

Bauld, bold. 

Bawbee, a halfpenny. 

Bein, snug, comfortable. 

Ben, within. 

Bide, to stay, to remain; to en- 
dure. 

Bink, a dresser for plates. 

Birkie, a smart fellow. 
Birling, drinking, merrymak- 


ing. 

Blate, bashful. 

Blaud, a ballad. 

Blaw, to talk ostentatiously. 

Bleezing, making an ostenta- 
tious show. 

Blude, blood. 

Bodle, a small Scottish coin. 


Bogle, a bogie, a ghost, a scare- 
crow. 

Borrel, rough, common. 

Braid-claith, broadcloth. 

Brash, a sudden storm, an attack. 

Brattle, a clattering noise (as of 
a horse going at great speed). 

Bra’, braw, brave, fine. 

Browst, a brewing; as much as 
is brewed at one time. 

Buckie, an imp. 

‘*Bye and attour,’? over and 
above. 

‘* By ordinar,’’ uncommon, un- 
usual, 


Callant, a lad. 

Caller, cool, fresh. 

Canna, cannot. 

Canny, quiet, cautious. 

Capernoited, crabbed, foolish. 

Carle, a fellow. 

Carline, a witch, an old woman. 

Chack, a slight repast. 

Chancy, foreboding good for- 
tune, auspicious. 

Chap, a fellow. 

Chiel, a fellow. 

Chucky-stones, small pebbles. 

‘* Clap and hopper,” the sym- 
bols of investiture in the pro- 
perty of a mill. 

** Cleik in with,’’ to hook on to, 
to join company with. 

Coup, cowp, fall; to overturn. 

Covyne, artifice. 

Crack, gossip. 

Cremony, Cremona. 

Crowder, a fiddler. 

Cruisie, an iron lamp. 

Crummie, a cow. 


312 


Dafiing, frolicking. 

Daft, crazy, mad. 

Dang, knocked over. 

Dargle, a dell. 

Daur, dare. 

Deave, to deafen. 

Delate, to accuse. 

Deray, mirthful noise. 

Dirdum, an uproar, a disturb- 
ance. 

Divot, thin flat turf used for 
thatching. 

*©Doch an dorroch,”? a drink 
taken standing, and for which 
nothing is paid ; a stirrup-cup. 

Dool, sad consequences. 

Door-cheek, door-post. 

Douce, quiet, sensible. 

Dour, stubborn, obstinate. 

Drucken, drunk. 

Dub, a pool, a puddle. 

Dyvour, a bankrupt. 


Een, eyes. 
Even’d, compared. 


Fand, found. 

Fash, trouble. 

Fasherie, nonsense, 

Fashious, troublesome. 

Faur’d, favoured. 

Fearsome, frightful, 
fear. 

Fleeching, flattery, cajolery. 

Flory, frothy. 

Forby, besides. 

Forfoughen, out of breath, dis- 
tressed. 

Fou, full. 

Frae, from. 

Frist, to postpone, give credit. 

Fu’, full. 

Fugie, a fugitive. 

Fule, a fool. 

Furinish, stop a bit, stay a while. 


causing 


Gaberlunzie, a beggar. 

‘*Gaen daft,’? gone out of his 
mind. 

Galloway, a stout cob, originally 
bred in the old Scottish county 
of Galloway. 


GLOSSARY. 


Gang, go. 

Gangrel, wandering, vagrant. 

Gar, to force, to compel. 

Gash, shrewd, calm and col- 
lected, sagacious. 

Gate, way, road. 

Gauger, an exciseman. 

Gaun, going. 

Gear, property. 

Gentle, of gentle blood. 

Gentrice, honourable 
gentle blood. 

Gey, pretty, moderately. 

Gie, gien, give, given. 

Gied, gave. ; 

Gin, if. ‘* Gin you like,’’ if you 
please. 

Girn, to grin, to cry. 

Glaiket, giddy, rash. 

Goud, gold. 

Gowff-ba’, a golf ball. 

‘*Grat nor grained,’ cried nor 
groaned. 

Gree, to agree. 

Grit, great. 

Grossart, a gooseberry. 

Grue, to creep, to shiver. 

Gudeman, the husband and head 
of the family. 

Gudesire, grandfather. 

Gway, very. 

Gyte, a contemptuous name for 
a young child, a brat. 


birth, 


Ha’, a hall. 

Had, haud, hold. 

Hae, have. 

Haffiins, half-grown. 

Haill, whole. 

Hallan, a partition in a cottage. 

Hamesucken, the crime of as- 
saulting a man in his own 
house. 

Hamshackle, to fasten. 

Happed, turned from. 

Haugh, a holm, low ground be- 
side a river. 

Havers, nonsense. 

Havings, behaviour. 

Hefted, closed as a knife in its 
haft. 

Hellicat, giddy. 


GLOSSARY. 


Hesp, a hank of yarn. 

Het, hot. 

Hill-folk, the Covenanters. 

Hinny, a term of endearment = 
honey. 

Hoddled, waddled. 

Hout! tut! 


Lk, ilka, each, every. 

TIik, of the same name. 

Til-deedie, ill-deedy, mischiev- 
ous. 

Ill-faur’d, ugly, ill-favoured. 

I’se, I shall. 


Jaud, a jade. 


Ken, to know. 
Kend, known. 
Kittled, tickled. 


Laith, loth. 

Landlouper, an adventurer, a 
runagate. 

Lap, leaped. 

Lawing, an inn reckoning. 

Leasing-making, slander; 
seditious words. 

** Teesome lane,’’ his dear self 
alone. 

Leevin, living, alive. 

Loaning, an uncultivated tract 
near the homestead, where the 
cows were pastured and fre- 
quently milked. 

Loe, to love. 

Lonon, London. 

Loon, a fellow, a rogue (in a 
humorous sense). 

Louis-d’or, a French gold coin 
worth from 16s. 6d. to 18s. 9d. 

Loup, lowp, to leap. 

Luckie, a title given to an el- 
derly dame. 

Lug, the ear. 

Lum, a chimney. 


lit., 


Mail, tribute. 

Mair, more. 

Maist, almost, most. 
Manse, a parsonage. 
Maun, must. 





313 


Mear, a mare. 

Merk, a Scots coin = 134d. 

Miffed, piqued. 

Mind, to remember. 

Minnie, mamma, mother. 

Muckle, much. 

Muils, slippers. 

Muisted, scented. 

Mutchkin, a measure equal to 
an English pint. 


Neist, next. 
Nevoy, nephew. 


Orra, odd. 

Ower, over. 
Owrelay, a cravat. 
Oye, a grandson. 


**Pace and Yule,’’ Easter and 
Christmas. 

Paraffie, ostentatious display. 

Parochine, parish. 

Pawmie, a stroke on the palm of 
the hand. 

Peel-house, a small square tower 
built of stone and lime. 

Pettle, a plough-staff. 

Pistole, a gold coin worth about 
16s. 

Pleugh, a plough. Pleugh- 
stilt, the plough handle. 

Ploy, a harmless frolic, a féte. 

Pock, poke, a bag. 

Pock-pudding, a contemptuous 
term applied to an Englishman. 

Powney, a pony. 

Puir, poor. 


Quoit, quiet. 


Raff, a worthless character. 

Rampauging, roaring. 

Rant, a noisy dance tune; also, 
to be jovial. 

Reaming, frothing, foaming. 

Redd, clear; also, to put in order. 

Rhino, money. 

Rin, run. 

Ripe, to search. 

Rug, a good share, a bargain. 


314 


Sae, so. 

Sair, very much. 

Salvage, a savage. 

Scowp, quaff. 

Sculduddery, loose, immoral ; 
looseness, immorality. 

Sealch, sealgh, a seal. 

** Sederunt day,’’ day on which 
the law court sits. 

Seenteen, seventeen. 

Semple, low-born, a common or 
ordinary man. 

Shoon, shoes. 

Sib, related (by blood). 

Sic, such. 

Siller, money. 

Sin, since. 

Skelloch, screech. 

Skirl, to scream. 

*° Small swipes,’’ 
drink. 

Sneeshin, snuff. 

Sough, a rushing or whistling 
sound ; rumour. 

Souple, flexible, cunning. 

Speer, to inquire. 

Speerings, tidings. 

Splore, a spree, a frolic. 

Spule-blade, the shoulder-blade. 

Spunk, spirit, courage. 

Spunks, a sort of match. 

Stend, to take long steps. 

Stoup, a liquid measure. 

Stunkard, sullen, obstinate. 

Suitored, courted. 

Suld, should. 

Syne, ago, since. 


thin, weak 


*‘Tace is Latin for a candle’’ 
is a proverbial expression en- 
joining silence and caution. 

Tae, the toe. 

Tass, a glass. 

Thairm, catgut. 

Thirlage, mortgaging of pro- 
perty. 


GLOSSARY. 


‘Thof, although. 


Threap, to aver. 

Tippenny, twopenny ale. 

Tod, a fox. 

Toom, empty. 

Toy, a linen or woollen head- 
dress that hung down over the 
shoulders. 

Trow, to guess, to believe. 

Twa, two. 

Twal, twelve. 

Twasome, a couple or pair. 

Tyrone, a beginner, an appren- 
tice, a novice. 


Uneco, very, 
ticularly. 

Uncouth, strange, unfamiliar. 

Uphaud, uphold. 

Usquabae, usquebaugh, whisky. 


uncommon, par- 


Wad, would. 

Waling, choosing. 

‘* Walth o’ gear,’’ abundance of 
property. 

Wame, womb, belly. 

Wanchancie, unlucky, danger- 
ous. 

Ware, to expend. 

Warlock, a wizard. 

Waur, worse. 

Wee, small, little. 

Weel, well. 

Wha, who. 

Whan, when. 

‘* What for,”’ why. 

Wheen, a few, a small number, 

Whilk, which. 

Win, to get. 

Wunna, will not. 

Wiuss, to wish. 


Yauld, active. 
Yelloch, yell. 

Yett, a gate. 

Yowl, to yell, to howl. 


END OF VOL. I. 


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